Grey Epistle

The grey corrugated catheter at Heathrow airport that serves as a departures lounge for flights to Ireland has to be one of the most ghastly places in Ireland (yes, I know, but I don’t care). I was in it last night and it made me pine for the comfort of Busaras on a Saturday night. Every inch of the place is covered in either stains, fluff, or ginger fatheads. You know the way some commentators write these pieces about how, sitting in an airport lounge and looking around you, you can glean some illuminating insights about economics, the process of globalisation and the composition of modern Irish society? Such a thing is near impossible at Heathrow because your thoughts are constantly interrupted by the urge to boke.

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