I was eating my gammon breakfast, minding my own business, while a group of workmen on the other side of the room, apparently builders, were talking about mostly soccer. I think they were Chelsea supporters; they certainly didn’t appear to think much of either Arsenal or Tottenham.
At one point their conversation switched to Harvey Weinstein, and the consensus was that he deserved castration or something similar. It doesn’t matter how much money he’s got, there’s only one way to deal with someone like that. Truly amazing, these are the sort of blokes who are normally considered sexist louts whose wolf whistling is a form of street harassment. I finished my breakfast and left, heading first to the Internet caff then shortly back to the launderette to collect my service wash.
