The last flags of Faversham

The last flags of Faversham

“Get your hands off our flags,” shouts a slender young man out the window of his soft-top convertible. My legs turn to jelly. His friend, slightly stockier, leans over to look out the window, a lit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. “We’ve paid good money for them, we’ll have you know.” There are five of us standing around a lamp-post on an island on the A2 in Faversham, Kent. Me and four middle-aged men with their faces covered. It’s just aft…