Bara Cailín 3: 44 ‘Bon bleedin’ appetit’
‘There you are Professor Fancy Words!’ sneered a familiar voice. ‘Feeling better after your little comfort break?’
This time Mac didn’t reply. The lout continued.
‘It’s high time you and your wordy friend got to work, I think.’ The lout pointed at a group of people gathering beside a giant pile of papers. ‘You’ve got three hours before breakfast so go and join the rest of the Rippers.’
Three hours later a box of stale sandwiches and a crate of cheap fizzy drinks was dumped beside the Rippers. ‘You’ve got ten minutes before the next fleet of lorries arrive,’ sneered the lout.
‘Bon bleedin’ appetit.’