The Boy Who Could Do What He Liked. David Baddiel
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“… 9.35PM!!!”,
it was much too loud.
Mrs Stokes sat back in her chair and said: “Blimey. No need to shout, dear!”
Stephen shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I was saying,” he said, “that I’d like Alfie to be in bed by 9.35pm if possible. And, before that, to stick to his usual routines.”
“Oh. That’s no problem,” said Mrs Stokes. “Hang on, I’ll make a note of it.”
She opened her handbag, which smelt so much of mothballs that moths from miles around must have flown away, terrified. Nonetheless, Stephen and Jenny and Alfie breathed a sigh of relief as they watched her write.
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