DIRTY STUFF
DOOMED, I was. Doomed to die slowly in agonising pain, trapped by the vice-like grip of a car-door window frame. And there was no nearby help, no friendly face to get me out of this hell. I was stuck there, half in and half out of a mongrel metal car. And I knew I was going to die, just like JC on his cross.
I live alone, in a small house on a one-hectare block in rural cow and sugarcane country, with no close neighbours. But I do
