Jonathan wore his tattered Welsh rugby shirt and scratched his brown stubble with one hand. The other paw was very consciously thrust into his pocket. Thin mousey brown hair covered his disproportionately large head. He tried to suck his big belly in but could not as he waddled gracelessly along along the street. He strove to thrust his chest out and swagger intimdatingly. Try as he might: he did not manage to be macho. His big bug eyes were watery and icy blue. He was below average height and his skin was unusually palid. He wore blue jeans that had seen better days and a cheap pair of market bought trainers.
The man was on leisure bent. He was on his way to a pub where beer would be his only companion. Jonathan muttered bitterly to himself in his baritone voice about all the slights and humiliations that had been inflicted on him.
Jonathan’s face was as round as the moon and totally lacking in sophistication – he had ruddy cheeks. At least his teeth were all straight but they could use brushing. He could not wait till he went fishing. Fishing on his own was his one hobby. At least then he did not have to interact with people who all seemed to treat him so unjustly.

CIRCUS
”The circus is in town!”, everyone shouted. The band struck up a fast and merry melody as we piled into our seats in a tizzy of anticipation. The red coated foxy whiskered ringmaster spoke with breathless panache, ”You are about to see the most death defying tricks – do not try this at home!”
Just then a high wire artist started to walk across the taut wire 10 metres above us. All eyes were fixed on him. But he was blindfold.
”Oh my God; there is no safety net!” cried mum.
”I can’t look!”, said Isabel with sweaty palms.
”We paid good money for this – you have to look”, said dad annoyedly.
”Don’t do it; you can fall and die!”, I shouted.
But the high wire artist took no notice. Once he wobbled and a hundred voices screeched in terror. But he recovered his balance. We breathed a sigh of relief.
After a minute of baby steps he got to the other side. The band played a triumphal tune. We spontaneously broke into raucous applause.
Then the high wire artist announced, ”Now I am going to walk across the wire backwards!”

=============
A BAD MAN

The man had almond shaped, black eyes, glinting maliciously like stars in the night sky. He had cropped hair, dyed ginger like a fox’s thick coat. His cracked lips contorted to reveal a mouth, full of loathing. His nose was hooked like a peg and he had coppery coloured skin. His tall stature radiated hatred and no warmth. He wore a musty grey cardigan, lined with black checks, a pair of torn, tattered denim jeans and dusty, unpolished black shoes. And by his side hung a sword, made of a material as black as a nightmare. The sword was dripping with a dark red substance. And it kept dripping.