F*ck me the Grafton,I let my mother dress me for my first visit in the late 60's,it was a condition of being allowed to go.My mother,a staunch Catholic, basically dressed me like Bing Crosby.Embarrasing as all me mates who were older than me looked like Beatles.Needless to say,I didn't pull.I learned a valuable lesson.tell your Mam f*ck all when going out,grow your'e hair and shop for your clothes on your'e own.Never looked back since.
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