TAB time

The spindly gait of Les, skinny, leathery Les, takes him down Pakington St to his local TAB. Les has coat-hanger shoulders, dark Brylcreemed hair, and teeth stained from 50 years of tobacco. “G’d morning’ Ron,” he says, greeting the manager. Les looks up to the boards, checking the columns of numbers and names. Dad staples [Read more]