Woolly batter

I spent nearly 2 hrs at Kings Cross last night, much of that sitting on a train which then turned out to be broken. The replacement one was very slow and too full and I ended up sitting with 4 middle-aged skinhead cockney chappies who farted a lot and incessantly repeated the phrase 'woolly batter', which they found incredibly funny but it all just reminded me that sometimes I want to punch England in the face really hard. And then I cycled home in the rain, arriving at 2.30 am. Anyway, I shall never again leave my house.