The Martin Family

Malcolm Martin of Martin & Sons builders. At least it would be and sons, if either of the two lazy good-for-nothings would get off their backsides and do an honest day’s work. My eldest Tim swans around half-asleep all day and seems to think a job in the local pub is the height of achievement – he took a gap year and went off travelling, and came back with nothing but debt! Whereas my youngest Ben has barely finished his exams and seems to think he can be a professional computer games player. Is it too much to ask for my kids to help run the family business?
I’m Annie Martin. I run a house, a husband and two teenage boys (although sometimes it feels like three teenage boys). I also run a small hair-dressing business from the spare bedroom in Littlewich. Yes, it’s true about hairdressing – you learn everybody’s secrets, while they’re sitting in front of the mirror. And believe me there are a lot of secrets in Littlewich …
Tim. What else do you want to know? All right – Tim Martin. That better? Happy now you’ve got a surname? I don’t know why I came back to this place – Littlewich really is the arse-end of nowhere. None of my mates are here and my dad is forever on my case wanting to know when I’m going to get a proper job. I’m nineteen – I’ve got the rest of my life to be boring and sensible. And anyway, Ben is the boring one in our family.
Cheers, big brother. I’m not nearly as boring as you think I am, you know? Not that anybody in the family bothers to notice me, or listens to anything I say. I’m Ben Martin and I think I might be invisible. But I’m not. I listen and I hear things. I’d love to work for my dad, but I’m not sure he even remembers he has a second son as he’s always far too busy shouting at Tim. But Tim’s halo can’t stay that bright and shiny for ever, can it?