Welcome, then, to Slug Britain. A place that gets slower by the minute. A few days ago, as I was hurtling out of Liverpool Street Tube station at 6.50am, my hand holding my debit card, ready to swipe it against the ticket machine, I walked smack right into an example of just how much Britain, and London in particular I think, has changed since the pandemic.
In front of me were three jovial TfL ticket inspectors having an animated conversation about something they’d watched on TV the night before. There they were, reliving their sedentary evening right before my eyes, complete with belly laughs and thigh-slaps.
