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Young Blithe was the youngest member of his family at only 14, but he was the man of his house. Normally, the man of the house was the father, but Blithe’s father had taken to cross-dressing and cross stitch. Blithe kept the money coming by selling Aubergines to the rich and famous. They couldn’t get enough of the exotic fruit, being so hard to come by, so he was making ends meet.
Only last week he’d bought his grandmother a hammock. What she really needed was a coffin, of course, being dead and all, but it was the best they could do in the circumstances and he longed for more. But today was different; he felt it in his bones.
While minding his stall, a young gentleman of high standing (and higher trousers), by the name of Mr Cowell, heard his wonderful voice and invited Blithe to his studio. Before long, he found himself mixing with a more cerebral crowd, discussing the fine arts of Westlife and the historical significance of Stock, Aitken and Waterman. Blithe had finally found his calling.
Young Blithe was the youngest member of his family at only 14, but he was the man of his house. Normally, the man of the house was the father, but Blithe’s father had taken to cross-dressing and cross stitch. Blithe kept the money coming by selling Aubergines to the rich and famous. They couldn’t get enough of the exotic fruit, being so hard to come by, so he was making ends meet.
Only last week he’d bought his grandmother a hammock. What she really needed was a coffin, of course, being dead and all, but it was the best they could do in the circumstances and he longed for more. But today was different; he felt it in his bones.
While minding his stall, a young gentleman of high standing (and higher trousers), by the name of Mr Cowell, heard his wonderful voice and invited Blithe to his studio. Before long, he found himself mixing with a more cerebral crowd, discussing the fine arts of Westlife and the historical significance of Stock, Aitken and Waterman. Blithe had finally found his calling.