This town used to be rough. You only have to go back thirty years or so. If you came for a night out from a neighbouring village, you’d get your head kicked in for the pleasure of a few pints. You were better off pretending you were visiting from Devon. Somewhere far enough away that a territorial local found you too boring to waste any energy on. These things happened because there was nothing else to do. And the youth were angry. Now all those hellraisers are old and the rage has burnt out and their sons haven’t got the same need to fight. But where does that rage go? Does it just dissipate into the atmosphere? Does it skip generations? This town has changed. For the better some would say. No one fights in public anymore. Not really. Not like they used to. Two-faced battles are fought online and so much of everything else happens behind closed doo...