David McMillan

He sent me off to the system.

Who was in the cell?

My manservant, Jet, so named because Jet being seven, he was the seventh child.

Tiny little guy trying to rob a bus.

Ha!

The passenger's

carried him out laughing it must have been an embarrassment took his guns off him straight away laughed at the size of them big gun little boy

Anyway, his story was shameful enough.

But he found his calling as my head butler.

And I had in my section, which was the art studio, where they sold shell paintings at exorbitant prices outside.

And the chief guard of the art section was a notorious drunk.

I'd prop him up in his chair every day.

And the only thing he'd sober up enough to was send out my mail.

which he very diligently did because I had to time it sort of on his lunch break, so it was between hangover and imbibing again.

So it was quite a nice little place, and I think we had a carpenter, we had a French Régine Noll, who was the chef.

We didn't burn charcoal.

Oh, that was for commoners.

We had our own electric ring.

The boys who collected the ice, the ones who fetched my water for my little splash upstairs.

I wasn't going to shower with the commoners.