Family tries

My younger brother , you know, was the best one of us. Yeah, he frigging was, so no one say a word about him and what he done, right. H e got onto an A-grade Rugby League club team and we used to see him real as life on the telly on Sunday. Yep, there he was in all his glory in all our glory. H e even got into the papers too. Got a great shot of him still. There he lies stretched out full length along the ground, the soles of his boots showing, his arms fully out though with the elbows bent just a little to ease his fall, but you know what, his effing face is turned to the camera. H e knows that that was good. It was too, the try of the week. Great picture, that's why I keep it, as does mum and dad. H e was bloody brilliant, but with his fame came the girls from better suburbs than ours can ever hope to be. Finally, got himself hitched to a fancy bitch whose folks had money in the bank and possibly owned the bloody thing too. Well, it was like that, but he should've stuck with his own kind, though they ain't much better. I should know, because of what lately happened to me. By the way, my name is Rose, and I've got thorns as more than one has found out to his grief...