You know after a fight, when you’re limping away with your teeth in an envelope you’ve fashioned from a cocktail menu, wishing you’d done something differently? I had that the other day. Except it wasn’t me who was fighting, but some people I was watching outside Bar Italia. And it wasn’t that I should have kicked anyone in the balls whilst suggesting we get the rules straightened out, or thrown a blanket over their head, momentarily stunning them, but that I should have put my phone in the pocket of this shirt, which I realised is the ideal depth for the camera to peek over, and filmed covertly.
Next time.