How 2010 is better, far better than 2009
When your columnist rocked up to the Dock Road after last Friday night’s Heineken Cup game to collect his car, cold and hungry, he was confronted by an eerie scene: streets utterly deserted, stretching away into a misty nothingness, the kind of dense pea-souper that would have given Sherlock Holmes pause even if Professor Moriarty was known to be around the corner, his wrists turned out for the handcuffs.
The ghostly streets were also utterly deserted, which gave the entire experience a touch of the 28 Days Later, though thankfully no blood-crazed zombies erupted into our company (they were all stuck in the bends outside Buttevant. Only joking, they diverted around Doneraile and escaped).
