There are only a few occasions when you get to feel the almighty scorch of mass hatred being focused directly upon you. When you turn up drunk for a stranger’s funeral. When you read the comments underneath any article you’ve just written. When you’re Piers Morgan. That sort of thing.

And now, to that list, I can add “When you’re a journalist at a mystery luggage auction”. Because I recently spent a morning bidding on sealed suitcases and, quite frankly, it’s a wonder I got out of there alive….

Bagging a bargain? My hellish visit to a luggage auction | Life and style | The Guardian.

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