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| Well... see the trouble is that what Colin really wants to be is a Cockney rapscallion. I gather there's some sort of problem with his bright-eyed ambitions on here at the moment, but all he wants to do is tip his tiffter to the knobs, charm all the ladies, pick a pocket or two, click his heels, invent a magic car, be brought up proper by a couple of professors, and then sail away on a magic brolly, doing his poetry thing in rhyming slang. And I can't help feeling that as his uncle, he's going to leave town disappointed. Unless, unless... |
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