Escalator.

Tanya Brooks was six years old and ran screaming into her family home with all the volume of a fire engine on its way to an emergency.

“Dad!” she wailed “Dad, Tommy Rawlings just kicked me really hard – for nothing!”

Alan Brooks threw down his newspaper, he was only half reading it anyway, and stormed to the doorway where his bawling daughter had collapsed dramatically.

“That little shit Rawlin’s; His father’s just the same! A friggin’ wannabe tough guy!”

Little Tanya’s wailing took on a new pitch and rose a decibel or two. Alan scooped up his daughter and did a brief session of back patting and hair smoothing that most parents pass off as family first aid for kids.

As Alan was patting and smoothing he swore under his breath, his jaw muscles bunching as if scowling were the new sport being considered for the 2012 Olympics.

At that moment, Mrs. Brooks walked in the house laden down with carrier bags from such illustrious stores as Aldi and the people’s favourite Netto. At this, little Tanya’s pain evidently relapsed and was announced by a new cavalcade of wails and moans.
Now mother, father and daughter joined in the modern family pursuit of calling someone else worse than shit – a game the whole family can enjoy!

Alan stood up and declared; “I’ll sort the little shit out!” and stormed out of his council house and into the street.

From the living room window, Mrs. Brooks (Angie to her friends) watched as ‘her Alan’ stalked off towards a group of ten or so kids playing in the street. After a bout of finger wagging, Alan seized on of the kids by the shirt collar and gave him a quick shake.

Then Alan walked back to his house with his chest puffed up for effect.

Down the street, a new wailing ensued. Tommy Rawlings had fallen off his bike after having his collar felt and was staggering off up the road, bike dumped on the ground behind him.

Terry Rawlings was lifting weights in his garage/gym when little Tommy staggered in holding his neck.

“Dad, Dad,” he cried “Alan Brooks just tried to strangle me for nowt!”

“What?” he asked dropping his dumbbell with a loud clank onto the ground “Fucker! I’ll show him!”

Tommy clutched at his neck as streams of tears ran down his face and his chin wobbled with a dimpled effect as if Aardman studios had taken control over it temporarily.

“Where is he?” Terry shouted to the street in general. “I’ll kick his head in!”

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