The Spectator, September 30th, 2006
We were somewhere around Fort William, on the edge of Loch Linnhe, when the drugs began to take hold. That's how I wanted this article to begin. It's the sentence that formed in my head more or less immediately when the offer came through to spend a long weekend thrashing an old sports car around in the Scottish Highlands. Instant excitement. Fear and loathing in a kilt. But this is gnat country, not bat country: lochs and lochans; bens and glens. We didn't have any drugs stronger than Haribo sour chews. And, not having an attorney, I took a mathematician. Nevertheless, with the top down o...
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