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The Holy Ghost Fathers were grim, but girls from the Jacobs biscuit factory were great. I wrote short stories at Trinity College Dublin before moving to the Athens Daily Post. Here, in the port of Pireaus, worldly dark-haired women asked if one would like to have a good time, while in Syntagma Square tourists talked admiringly about the Acropolis and the Parthenon.
Back in London on my first booze fuelled tabloid it was 'deliver or you're out, mate.' As an assistant leader-writer I duly attacked the Germans in sixty words and praised the virtues of British farmers in one hundred and twenty. It was much the same on tabloids two and three where my editors were keen on unsavoury sexual set-ups for celebs, politicians and unfortunate people who just happened to be newsworthy.
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