Spread your fucking legs, you asshole!
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Spread your fucking legs, you asshole!
Charlie Rouse , one of London’s last night watchman armed with rattle, tucked beneath his sash, truncheon, cutlass strapped to his waist, and carrying the traditional lantern, standing outside his post on the Brixton Road , London in 1850 .
“West Side Story,” Rory echoed in astonishment. Paris grinned: “No way.” But Matt and Chris kept on nodding smugly while Jess shrinked in his seat. “You’ve gotta tell us which song,” Lane insisted with a sparkle in her eye. “They’re just messing with you,” Jess argued, hugging himself tighter. “Sorry to disappoint but I don’t sing-” “His go-to karaoke song is Somewhere,” Chris declared. Jess groaned as the girls gasped.
Truncheon Nights: An Underdog Quartet AU
(Raw images: not mine)
A Victorian period British police cutlass by Robert Mole of Birmingham, and a truncheon by Parker, 233 Holborn, London. The book, by the late Mervyn Mitton, just arrived and I’m looking forward to diving in!
Truncheons, D-Beat , Punk!
X-Transbots MX-III Truncheon (aka Nightstick)
this is the story of how i died