Why, the inquiry thing, the yellow-dog thing—you wouldn’t think a mangy, native tyke would be allowed to trip up people in the verandah of a magistrate’s court, would you?
It is not bulimorexia, exercise-bulimia or any other kind of eating disorder.
Several of them were clearly highly respectable businessmen who had overcelebrated the previous evening and whose melancholic airs were born of a blend of natural hangover and of genuine mortification at their predicament.
The approach to Rotherham is very slow indeed. The dim, gas-lit platform there is not graced with a traffic stop, much to the annoyance of Rotherham passengers who must retrace their steps by road from Sheffield.
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