TOM
HUMPHRIES hears the true story of what what was going on behind the
scenes on Wearside and what the future may hold
HE FLICKED the button on the car phone speaker and killed the call.
When the road offered him a decent chance to do so he spun the car
around and pointed it the other way. He made another call and kept on
driving. Home was empty when he got there. No Theresa. No kids. He had
a cup of tea and waited. He doesn’t remember how long it took, but he
remembers looking out the window and seeing the journalists gathering
at the gate.
It had been done.
He learned three days later that he could have had them moved on. They stood on the neighbours’ walls and blocked the road. They wanted one thing. They wanted a few quotes, certainly, but mainly they wanted a picture of Roy Keane walking the dog.
He looked out the front door one day and the flashbulbs popped. Makes you look like a criminal looking out your own front door.
