An Englishman Abroad
Back from a week holidaying in the glorious Welsh countryside:
and visiting the welcoming Welsh beachs:
The sun shone, for at least an hour in the whole week, the locals have taken "I'll pick a consonant, please Carol" to ridiculous extremes, can't we carpet bomb them with vowels to force them to open their upper vocal tracts and cease their grunting? Betting on the empty Brains rolling down the street in the wind was as close to sport as I got and if being sand blasted by the shards of slate they laughingly expect you lie on is refreshing, then I am refreshed.
I almost embarrassed myself on the A55 when the sign "Welcome to England" showed up, if it hadn't been for the queues of peroxided couples from Merseyside in their caravans and the fat boys from Manchester in their Audis steamrolling down the tarmac I would have leapt from the car and kissed the red cross.