![[UK]](/static/img/flags/uk.png "United Kingdom")
London Fields n.p.: Plenty of third-world shouting going on, y’raas, Babylon, raas claat! at raasclat!, excl.
London Fields n.p.: Plenty of third-world shouting going on, y’raas, Babylon, raas claat! London Fields 45: She was in the A.1. bracket. Keith wasn’t the sort of bloke who disapproved of people who had a lot of money.at A-1, adj.
London Fields 108: Short legs were shortcuts . . . Yeah. They didn’t mess about. Short legs were shortcuts to the biz.at mess about, v.
London Fields 282: You start fucking around with the way your babies look.at fuck about, v.
London Fields 111: No way will I crap or bottle it on the night.at bottle (it) (v.) under bottle (and glass), n.
London Fields 281: Last night she took my hand on the stairs and said, ‘You want to fool around?’.at fool around, v.
London Fields 87: The thing was, the thing was . . . he was straight arrow.at straight-arrow, adj.
London Fields 371: [They] had never, in fact, been known to win a darts match. Your more cultured arrowman was always going to be turning elsewhere for his sport. [Ibid.] 444: To his left a dartsman waited at the dimmed oché with his arrows.at arrow, n.
London Fields 182: I don’t know what the chili rilienos was doing to his insides (it even means ‘red-ass’), but his tongue looked like a reefer knot.at red ass, n.
London Fields 171: ‘Babymamma.’ You see, that was the bird they had babies with, or at least gave babies to.at baby-mother (n.) under baby, n.
London Fields 3: Let’s start with the bad guy. Yeah. Keith. Let’s start with the murderer.at bad guy (n.) under bad, adj.
London Fields 89: John Dark, the corrupt policeman – the bent copper, the tarnished badge, the iffy filth.at badge, n.1
London Fields 14: Keith’s in the bag. Keith’s cool.at in the bag under bag, n.1
London Fields 50: An adoring baldy or four-eyes – some wally, wimp, nerd or narna – might be sleeping on the chair.at baldy, n.
London Fields 260: And a Vamp. And a Ballbreaker. In the end, though, I’m fingering you for a Femme Fatale.at ball-breaker, n.
London Fields 164: Awful old load of old balls.at balls, n.
London Fields 293: Be no good at fighting, decided Keith as he climbed the stairs. A total banana.at banana, n.
London Fields 228: Isn’t it amazing, the way he always gets you bang on the nipple?at bang, adv.
London Fields 110: ‘Me? I’m in there. Boof.’ ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, Keith.’.at bark up the wrong tree, v.
London Fields 428: Lizzyboo is full of beans.at full of beans (adj.) under beans, n.3
London Fields 349: I’m often too beat to get out of her way.at beat, adj.
London Fields 97: I’d say she really did a number on Guy Clinch. No half-measures there. It beats me how she keeps a straight face.at beat, v.
London Fields 50: Sometimes, when he stumbled into her bedsit in the small hours, Analiese was not alone.at bed-sit, n.
London Fields 43: He will have a rule about it – Keith, with his tenacities, his berk protocols, his criminal codes.at berk, adj.
London Fields 283: One of the many messages that pulses off Lizzyboo has something to do with babies. It says: Big me. I’m big already but make me bigger.at big, v.
London Fields 134: He drools and slurps at everything remotely bim-like.at bimbo, n.
London Fields 45: The thinner bird often made it up to you in the crib.at bird, n.1
London Fields 419: Our babies are born, not in their birthday suits, but in uniform.at birthday suit, n.
London Fields 112: Keith knew that some of these rich ladies liked a bit of rough.at bit of rough, n.2
London Fields 36: ‘Bitch,’ said Keith, as he dropped his third dart.at bitch, n.1
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