How that scruffy, neglectful man could have produced her, I don’t know. He certainly does not deserve the little angel… — “Daddy, where shall we sit?” The small girl turns around excitedly on the ferry lounge looking at all the possibilities, holding not one, but three dollies. Her father — a thirty-something, tracky-bottom wearing, sweaty geezer — doesn't even survey his surround. Instead, he walks straight over to a slot machine…