I shared a Ryanair check-in queue for a flight home to Dublin on Friday night with a young Dublin lady who was talking loudly on her phone (no, wait, it gets even less classy than that).
From her half of the conversation, I was able to gather that she'd been staying in Manchester with her dad, who is 59, and his new girlfriend, who is 21. The girlfriend had called our heroine (we'll call her Amy) some rather rude names, and had been beaten up and knocked unconscious by Amy for her troubles.
So the dad had paid €300-odd to get Amy on a plane home 4 days early, and Amy was feeling very hard done by that this young upstart had, in her words, ruined her holiday, so was ringing ahead to ensure that her friends had a nice stash of cocaine ready for her when she got back to Dublin.
Sometimes I miss living here!
