It was a nice warm day in Manchester during last summer.
Well, slightly south in Fallowfield, actually.
It was here that a wall seemed an attractive place to sit and watch the world go by from.
Of course, sitting and watching the world go by is all very well if there’s nobody behind the wall you’ve decided to perch your bum upon.
Nobody with a camera, that is.
What can I say.
At least his pants were clean.
Not a skid-mark in sight!
As the girls tend to say, “Nice bum.”
(I never say such things, honest.)
England's England 