School dinner time we used to head off to the local newsagents near the school which we named 'widow twankys' after the daft cow who worked there,she thought the sun shone out of our arses and we were nice pleasant boys but unbeknown to her we had our 'twan compartments' which were basically the inside pockets of our school blazers cut at the bottom to allow all the loot to fall into the whole of the blazer like a big loot bag,football italia 90' stickers,mars bar ice creams and giant turkish delights were the order of the day for me most of the time,used to use excuses like ' do you have any of yesterdays Liverpool echos' so she would go in to the stock room and our light fingers would do the work,feel a reet cnut now tho,i think she lost her job as well poor cow
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