The other day we had a visitor regarding the room to let. The lady, I’ll call her Angie, for this article, represented her boyfriend who is a published children’s book author, whom I shall call Nebraska, for the purposes of this article.

While Angie lives just a few miles away, Nebraska lives two hundred miles away but, she told us, he couldn’t move in with her as she’s going through a divorce and she would lose the house; fair enough.

It would be nice to have another writer in the house to sound-board ideas between us, or even collaborate with.

However, today we had a visit from the Police’s Dangerous Offender Team asking if there are any children that either live in the house or visit here. Alarm bells duly rang, like fucki*g mad!!

As far as I’m concerned, this can only mean one of very few things, regarding Nebraska:

1. He’s a fu*king paedophile
2. He’s a *ucking kiddy fiddler
3. He’s Gary Fu*king Glitter.

Added to the fact that the Policeman said WE had nothing to worry about, Angie lied as to the REAL reason Nebraska couldn’t move in with her, as she has children of her own.

Needless to say, he won’t be moving in anytime soon!

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