scrawl

By the end of October, the prime minister's frustration is obvious in the long note he scrawls at the end of a Covid briefing document marked OFFICIAL/SENSITIVE.

Woo screams, jumping on Autumn’s shoulder and peering at what Ama is scrawling.

“Biscuits would be good, too,” she whispered, scrawling the word onto the list.

Judging from his near-desperate social media posting about the whole thing being a “hoax,” it’s hard to imagine him putting his scrawl on that law.

They were scrawled across sidewalks, proclaimed on banners, repeated on the street and the tram, spoken at the hospital, at home, by his wife, by his children.