Goodness, news through on the trusty billberry, “ Go Norff man, and audit ye a vessel for work in the Norff Sea. Be gone early on Toosday mornin’, complete the 8 zillion word checkist and return to the verdant sarff on the wednesday” it said.
Blimey, every week for the last dozen weeks (it seems), it’s been to Scottyland visits, this week almost, yes almost the same. Falling short by just a few miles, Newcastle on Tyne the destination this time. Almost as bad, hehe hehe hehe. They say Geordies are just Scotsmen with their brains beaten out but allatsea will add a caveat to that. They’re Scotsmen with their brains beaten out and the far northern sartorial and gastronomic senses removed too. Geordies are oft to tell you that Newcastle is the party capital of Blighty. No it isn’t. It’s a chip wrapper infested, puke stained noise hole populated with topless tattooed bellowing drunk tossers and vacuous slappers accurately described as ‘cute, dum and full of cum’. You can can keep it!! Sadly there’s no escape. The choochoo North beckons, 0646 the start time.
It does all beg the question of course as to why there’s never a boat to have a look at down here, why always so far up-country? A conundrum and no mistake your honour.
Tried to have a perambulation along Margate seafront this teatime. No such luck. The Plod had closed it off, blue lights flashing and lots of boys in blue dashing about trying to look useful and honest (you didn’t fool us chaps). Aaah, Margate at its finest. May well have been the UKIP boys out in force celebrating. In the vote darn this way, they obliterated the other parties by wide mile. Mummy allatsea couldn’t have been alone then, with where she put the cross.
In the meantime, preps to do, Noocarssel here we go.