Des Lynam

On the seventh floor of the Café Royale in central London, in a room unheated despite the wintry night air outside, a door creaks open. A callow youth in overalls stands hesitantly, framed in the doorway, chair in hand. He takes in the long mahogany table and the tape recorder that rests upon it. He looks at the back of Des Lynam's head, at the silvery collar-length hair, then at me. The BBC's sports anchor turns in his chair and gives him a quizzical arch of his eyebrow. 'I. Chairs. Move. Told Read more [...]