Farm Fatale

I was on my way to the Southbank Centre to see a play. It was last-last weekend, precisely, the Saturday. Tommy Robinson’s fanboys were clogging up the zone 1 pubs, St George’s flags tied around their necks like capes. All the way from Embankment, across the river, union jack st George union jack st George — tourist or fascist or y2k britpop revival? Spin the wheel. I was there to see a play…