Watford (by night)

First of all let me introduce the background to this. I’d been out of Britain for 6 months – in a large port city on one of the world’s great waterways, where there is a large British presence and it is considered an extremely dangerous,violent and newsworthy place. Those with half a brain should get where I mean. About 2 months ago a mate of mine sent me a link to this website as it very accurately described where I grew up – Harrow. As funny as I found the piece on reading further I thought it was all a bit hyped up and, to be frank, bloody snobbish. We’ve always in Britain had youth cultures that people found frightening and dangerous from the Teddy Boys onwards. I felt this website was an entire over-reaction.

So I come back to Britain for 2 weeks, the first week and a half were bliss. I went out mainly in central London and had a great time and my faith in the innate goodness of the British man and woman was proved correct.

Then it changed. After rugby last Saturday it was decided that everyone would go to Watford to celebrate me being back. There was about 50 of us in disparate groups. The minute I arrived I was shocked and disgusted. Fat, orange girls with yellow hair, too much fake gold and not enough clothes were staggering around everywhere screaming obscenities at anyone uinfortunate enough to be walking past. The bars were your typical pretentious, want to be posh **** watering holes. We settled down in a bar that made us wait for 20mins in the rain to get into an empty place ” ‘cos it looks exclusive innit” Now I’m 6’4″, and you’ve probably guessed what I do for a living, but I couldn’t walk to the bar without some knuckleheaded moron trying to “start ” on me for daring to be near him or some underaged, overtanned ******* trying to grab or shout at me. These **** have no sense of communication, or indeed ambition beyond trying to appear “hard”. About as hard as ******* lard, and resembling it in both looks and intelligence most of them.

Anyway the best was yet to come.