People are like a bag of liquorice allsorts.

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When I was still my father’s only son, he used to take me with him to the mechanic. There were two persons always hanging out at the garage front office – one was intersex and the other was ¬†transvestite – from what I can recall explained to me (I didn’t understand the full significance of the word hermaphrodite used to explain intersex and only now know it isn’t exactly the right word but they and my Dad tried and I was about 7) and both of them were very nice to me.

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