Indoor plumbing? Rubbish!
I was driving out of Bristol on the A4 towards Bath, when I paused briefly in a queue of cars. Directly to my left was a once-quaint boozer, now looking a bit grubby due to car-grime. Away up on top of the hill leftward was the church, partly obscured by a set of brightly-coloured Murco signs announcing a red-brick petrol station. Further up the road on the right was a much more imposing boozer, which looked to have been extended down the hill at some point in the last two hundred years.
What a terrible shame it was that some hateful mob of bastards had shat out an urban A-road, a turd-coloured housing block and a concrete strip of rubbish shops. I was in quite a cheery mood before spotting that.
What a terrible shame it was that some hateful mob of bastards had shat out an urban A-road, a turd-coloured housing block and a concrete strip of rubbish shops. I was in quite a cheery mood before spotting that.