He was always getting tripped, shoved and ridiculed. One summer afternoon at the ball field I called him a little weasel. Without warning he leaped at...me and wrestled me to the ground. I wasn't prepared. In a matter of seconds he trapped me in a head-scissors with his legs. He held me there for a very long time while all my friends watched. I could not move and he was hurting me. In his little girly voice he said, "Who's a little weasel now?" When he finally let me up my friends were. Desmond discreetly brushes his hand on the back of his trousers while Herbert paces about the office in a proprietorial manner.Herbert: So you wanna try your hand at writing porn then, Des.Desmond: It's what I've always wanted to do.Herbert: Don't shit me, Des. No one's always wanted to write porn: at least not for pornos. You scriptwriter guys want to write like fucking David Hare, Joe Orton or even Ben Elton. None of you ever got into this game 'cause you wanted to write the bit of dialogue. More

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