Tom Hill is in the country. If you spot him approach him and utter these words…
“You are the bastard son of little lord Fauntleroy, and I claim my five pounds.”
Um, what will you do then?
Give you five pounds and a copy of the daily mirror.
Or maybe just a handshake and a bum squeeze.
A real life interaction with the living, functioning Hot Mill? And he gives you 300NT?!
He just doesn’t know when to stop giving!!