“Anyway”, continued Mary, “when he read that particular text, he immediately went feckin’ apeshite! Started feckin’ effin and bloinding, grabbed his car keys, even though he was full of Guinness and shot off like a feckin’ rocket. Last time I saw him til I identified his feckin’ body.”
“So what happened then?” asked Livia.
“The pigs said they found him fully clothed lying on a naked tart, dead, with a kitchen knife stuck in his neck. Blood feckin’ everywhere. And apparently he’d strangled the feckin’ tart too! Kinky sex gone wrong the pigs said... but I say that’s feckin’ bollocks!”