Trisha dreamed of being a Playboy Bunny since the days she still had buck-teeth and fried egg boobs. She blu-tacked page threes above her bed-head and had me snap topless Polaroids till they littered the floor. She told me to imagine she had 36DDs and peroxide blonde hair. I used to wish like hell that she wasn't my cousin. When she was fifteen Trisha started putting out for the boys in the Kwik-Save car park for a tenner a time. She said she was an entrepreneur, not a prostitute. She started going steady with a kid called Keith. He was a fryer in the fish and chip shop. He had a future and a Ford Cortina. She got a job waitressing and she worked all the hours she could. Keith couldn't handle me and Trisha being as close as we were. Especially the time he caught Trisha bending over me in nothing but a frilly market stall thong while I worked the angles best I could to get a dangle-shot. Next night he took her in the car park woods and doped her up to the eyeballs. He took out a bottle of India ink and told her he would etch the love-heart she'd always wanted. Instead, he safety-pinned the word 'inbred' into her arse. Trisha's step-dad tracked the spits of blood and found her sobbing in the bathroom of their long-stay static. It didn't take him long to slap out the truth. He went straight round to Keith's place with a crow-bar and did enough damage to make sure he'd need more than laser treatment to put things right. Keith wasn't rolling in spare change so Trisha's step-dad took the Cortina as payment in lieu of her getting herself fixed up. Trisha got me to stash the Cortina up the lane at the back of Boyes' farm. Weekend nights, I drove her out to the dual carriageway truck-stop where she found a faster way to make her fortune in the fogged-up cabs. Why did Keith pin the word to Trisha's arse? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Her step-dad hit him with a crow-bar - He caught her bending over the author with nothing on but a thong - She was prostituting - not enough information
He caught her bending over the author with nothing on but a thong

(Question)
If you turned on the TV towards the end of 2002 you could have been forgiven for thinking that Britain had gone absolutely horseshit mental. Every week, it seemed, another pretty young girl from a nice family, who was happy and popular and always did well at school, was being kidnapped or murdered by what the Sun newspaper cheerfully termed 'evil paedo scum'. Naming and shaming was as popular a feature in the Murdoch press as Page Three girls and discounted holidays to Butlin's. Of course you can't blame parents for wanting to keep their children safe; that's pretty much the job description of a parent. And, on the face of it, the tabloids were doing a public service in warning us about the paedophile menace lurking in our midst. The problem came when it turned out that a huge number of these concerned tabloid-reading parents were also absolute fucking morons. For every story of an actual sex offender being driven from their house by a baying mob there was one like that of Dr Yvette Cloete, a doctor at the Royal Gwent Hospital in Newport, South Wales, who returned home from work to find that a group of 'concerned parents' had daubed the word 'paedo' on her front door in bright red paint. Dr Cloete was a consultant paediatrician. Easy mistake. If you're an absolute fucking moron. And so it was that one hung-over morning, after reading yet another story about vigilantes who had threatened to stone Maxine Carr, the girlfriend of Soham killer Ian Huntley, to death during her high-profile trial for perverting the course of justice, I decided to set up a website parodying this collective national madness. The result of two or three hours of hung-over labour was thinkofthechildren.co.uk, a spoof campaign site which claimed to offer a handy online guide for crazy vigilantes of all stripes to co-ordinate their crazy vigilante efforts. Although there are a few parts of the site I'm still a bit proud of, the majority of it was, I freely admit, satire of the lowest order. The narrator has probably been living in his neighborhood: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - for two weeks - for most of his life - not enough information - for a day
(Answer)
for most of his life

When I had trouble bending over to tie my shoes and I wasn't pregnant. When I hit about 35 I started having trouble with weight. The strange thing was to me, it wasn't that I was eating more then I used to, as a matter of fact I started eating less. When that didn't help I barely ate at all. Still I couldn't lose weight. What I didn't know was we start to lose muscle mass every decade beginning in our thirties, and I was a ripe 35. Muscles use up more calories than fat, so less muscle means a slower metabolism and the need for fewer calories, and the pounds stack on easier. My second problem was my narcolepsy. When you wake up after a nights sleep there is a release of adrenaline which prompts body and mind into action and helps burn off calories. Narcolepsy causes me to sleep on and off during the day, and as explained by my doctor (so if I have this wrong about adrenaline it is my doctors fault lol) I am not getting that adrenaline release because my bodies clock doesn't know if I am asleep or awake. He suggested in the morning to start exercising about 20 minutes to get that adrenaline rush, in the afternoon exercise about twenty minutes more for the same reason Dieting and exercising brought those pounds back down. I will say it is much harder in the winter for me then in the summer. Summer time I am naturally active. I ride bikes with my husband, swim, garden, mow about an acre of lawn. In the winter I can't ride, swim, garden, or mow, and I hate exercise I don't enjoy. Anyway the long answer to the defining moment but there it is just the same. When does she like to do for exercise? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Mow. - Bike - swim - not enough information
Bike