Formal Dinner 2: Good vs Evil Shags Edition

I had a lovely chat last night with a fake security guard who spent the day in court because he's a drug dealer, but lost because he had a public defender, or possibly Eugene McGee, then came to Marion to drown his sorrows. He let his 'missus' drink drive, even though he himself is a really good drink driver, and she's good to his two sons, aged five and nine, the elder of which sounds like a real little psycho, who knows four-letter words starting with f that rhyme with truck, and who'd like to do things to people, with axes, but luckily, his dad took him to a different street than the one where the people had been. And he gave me a rose.