Davy Jones lives and works in London.


She was born within the sound of Bow bells. She was an odd one from the off, always quick with tongue and fist. She was funny and cruel. She had a Ph.D. in cockroaches. She had a son. She liked to kick off at Christmas. She was thrown out of AA for being drunk and abusive. She was in and out of hospital, a patronising doctor saved by patronising doctors.

She was many things but she was not dull. She could describe exactly how she would die, just not the when or why. She favoured Tesco vodka. Every little helps. She died in Kirkcaldy. She was terrible and magnificent. She was my sister. RIP.



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