At Close of Play

The Sweepers are among the last to arrive and are the surest sign that it's time to leave. All cheekbones, lipstick and hollow eyes, they take up positions vacated by successful younger Chickens. They watch us, and wait. Gentlemen - are we old? They don't mind. Are we ugly? Good. Are we fat, shabby and ill-shaven? Better still. Are we all of these things, and drunk besides? Champion - we will be