The fib and other stories

I was sick of Gordon Barraclough. Sick of his bullying. And I was sick of him being a good footballer. 'Listen, Barraclough. My uncle is Bobby Charlton. ' 'You're a liar. ' I was. 'I'm not. Cross my heart and hope to die. ' I spat on my hand. If I'd dropped down dead on the spot I wouldn't have been surprised. 'Funny and moving...a rare gift. ' - " Guardian" .