Weston-super-Mare is located on the South West coast of England, twenty-two miles from Bristol. Once a glorious Victorian seaside resort, more recently host to Banksy’s Dismaland, it has unique ways and customs found nowhere else in the West Country region, regardless of how dark and deep into it one is willing to go.
You take the Low Road, I’ll take the High Road, and I’ll get to Loch Munchie before thee . . .
Not being able to hold one’s beer can be disastrous.
It can have a negative impact on social standing and reputation, even make a laughing stock of to whatever gender one likes to stick things in or have things stuck in by; maybe it’s a two-way street of insertions – it’s not for me to make judgements, cast any assertions. Continue reading
This is a poem about going for a walk that leads to reflection on youth’s cruel ebb, being devastated by it and then humbly coming to terms with the injustices of fate. Continue reading
A Life of Crime vs. The Free Market IV
The Mr T I worked markets with bore no resemblance to the mother-loving one in the video below. Mr T did a bit of this and a bit of that; a real-life ‘Del Boy’ if ever there was one. If you’re getting any ideas of me being the Rodney of the equation, you can Continue reading