Monday 23 October 2017

Coloured strips and dancing pom-pom girls? It's just not cricket

David Robbins

My uncle Eugene was old school. For him, the passage of time meant an inevitable deterioration in conditions. The past was always better than the present, and the future was a wasteland too tragic to contemplate.

Take rashers. For Uncle Eugene, there hadn't been a good rasher in the country since before the Emergency.

Or teabags. A needless fandango, according to Eugene, made from the sweepings of second-rate tea plantations.

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