Charles Dickens was not a great fan of Rugby – the town that is, not the
game. His experience at the major railway junction was not a happy one
and he took his revenge in the short tale, Mugby Junction. Hopefully he would be suitably impressed today following a major refurbishment.
Ambulances were called and three drunk teenagers were brought to my
care. One was so drunk we had to suction out the vomit from her mouth to
stop her choking to death.
My fingers were achingly sore and my head was spinning. I still had a sticky label stuck to me that read Lady Audley, and the phrase ‘goal-mate’ was echoing in my ears. There was a stick on moustache stuck to my handbag, and I had spent all night avoiding penalties and red cards. I had been speed dating.