St James’s Street. On my way home. About 11pm. A tall transvestite in a ginger wig with a thick belt round a long jumper is strutting along. She looks like Donna Noble.
A group of three twittering, bickering discobunny gay lads are walking the other way, towards her. One of them spots her and smirks and shouts:
Donna stops. In her heels she’s much taller than they are. She looks at them with disdain and flares her nostrils.
‘Fuck off, Davros,â€ she says with venom. The boys walk on, silently now. Chastened.
*An occasional sketch of things I see and hear around the City by the Sea.