Other than sodden pants 'cuz I coffeed all over myself laughing?
Two beautiful paragraphs that revive my muse, and remind me of all that can be good and righteous about journalism--the last line of the first graf wins the Dickheaded Understatement of the Year prize:
“We bit off more than we could chew. They were just Cockney barrow boy spivs. Total thugs,” one protester said, rubbing his bruised skull. “I’ve never seen anyone less amenable to listening to our point of view.”
Another said: “I took on a Texan Swat team at Esso last year and they were angels compared with this lot.” Behind him, on the balcony of the pub opposite the IPE, a bleary-eyed trader, pint in hand, yelled: “Sod off, Swampy.”
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