Editor’s Note: The Red Bladder sent me this with a note saying: “I’ve been indulging in the most dangerous practice known to man…
“Below is the result”
IN THE total absence of anything interesting in my life I’ve been thinking about Bridport a bit.
This is the sum total of a whole summer’s cogitations.
Wasn’t worth the effort really!
If all the scaffolding poles used in Bridport this summer were laid end-to-end they would stretch from the Town Hall to the Kilt shop in Prague High Street.
Southern Gas Networks leave the barriers around what used to be their holes for weeks on end so that spotters can fill in their I-Spy Holes in the Road books. What a caring company.
Two pints of IPA and a glass of wine in West Bay cost the same as the annual gross national product of many African nations.
It is impossible for anyone on holiday in Dorset to be run over. Hence there is no need at all for them to look in any direction before stepping off the pavement.
The tunnels under the Town Hall would make the ideal site for the disposal of nuclear waste.
The easiest profits Gundry’s ever made were from their annual end-of-line clearance. It truly was money for old rope.
A recent local government conference was attended by 144 councillors from Dorset. Now there’s gross incompetence.
If the President of USA has to be born within that country couldn’t Bridport have a Mayor who could, at least, remember Fenwick’s and the West End Dairy?
There was a popular ditty a few years ago entitled Why does it always rain on me? Well, I’ve worked out the answer. Because you live in Broadwindsor, son.
Am I the only person to get incensed by the total absence of an apostrophe in the title of our local brewery?