I had a baby. Just sixteen. Mum was Catholic, didn’t have a choice. My girl wrote to me a few months ago. She wrote on pink notepaper with two doves in one corner. She really wanted to know a few things about her biological parents. I can’t… Were we into sport, books like her? What the fuck could I say?! Cause if I was her… If I was her, and I found out that my father was one of four rapists and my mother their fifteen year old victim, I would want to kill myself. I would want to blow my fucking brains out. And that she doesn’t know - never has to know, that’s it. That’s all I have to give her. Every birthday, every Christmas, a fucking right to innocence. Fuck the truth, Al. Fuck the truth.