“Happy now?” Johnny demanded when he sauntered into my room later that night with the DVD box of Love Actually in hand. “I had to pry the bleeding box from Tadhg’s fingers.” “Kid’s got good taste.” “On the contrary, lad, I think it’s safe to assume that his attachment to the film has a lot more to do with the full-frontal nudity than Hugh bleeding Grant.” “Ah, I’d hardly call it full frontal,” I snickered. “You can only see yer one’s tits.”
