On the other hand, as the Home Office spokesman had pointed out, it was also a place crawling with armed police.
There were the usual slightly blocky and pixelated pictures from CCTV cameras which always made me wonder how much use they could ever be for really identifying anyone doing anything.īut then it was an airport, so if there was anywhere that was going to have a lot of CCTV coverage, that would be it. I had my coffee in the small panelled back bar as I read the story in the week’s worth of papers I had collected that morning, my shopping including the family fun pack of Fluoxetine, sitting on the chair beside me. So much so that even here, hiding out in the back of beyond, we had heard about it during the week. The fight had been all over the Press of course, TV, radio, papers, everything. The only thing I have a choice about is when I stop writing.Īnd despite that, and despite the fact that whatever he says, I still think it was Wibble who really got me into all of this shit, the weird thing is, he’s also the only slim hope I have of ever getting out. Realistically there’s no way I’m getting out of this alive.
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