Friday, June 17, 2005


Just back from a few days in the windy, mystic wilde-woodes of South Devon...

Not much to report apart from the usual Sad Dad stuff. One point of interest is that noted train-buff Pete Waterman will be turning up in September to officially name the new locomotive at the Pecorama model-railway centre in Beer, Devon. (PW: "Locomotion? 'Ey, isn't that one of my old song-titles...? That's plagarism, pal...You'll be hearing from my solicitor!" )

Yep, there really is a town in South Devon called Beer. Down in the West Country, we believe in keeping the names of our towns simple and straight to the point. A few miles from Beer is the seaside town of Fags...which is, er, fast becoming Devon's answer to Brighton. On the North coast we have Smack (twinned with Opium-en-Provence) and its neighbouring village of Crack (the two are joined by a slippery slope)... in North Cornwall, a few miles down from Newquay is the coastal town of Charlie, where surfers are not welcome, because, as every foole kno "Charlie Don't Surf"...

Standing on the cliff at Sandy Bay (no, honest, it's a real place...) with my eldest daughter at tea-time a couple evenings ago, I saw that someone had drawn an enormous cock and balls on the beach below...enormous is no exageration; this was at least 60ft long, specifically designed to be visible from the cliff, complete with globules of ejactulate spurting from its bell-end...incredibly childish, but heroically so...

I put my hand over my mouth, partially to stop myself laughing, but mainly to stifle a gasp at the astonishing amount of sheer hard-work involved in creating this phallic-art beach-monstrosity (Richard Long, it ain't...still, wish I'd had a camera at hand...) when Kid Kid Shirt said: "Dad, why've they drawn a rocket-ship on the beach...?"


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