Search This Blog

Monday, 11 April 2011


Paranoia on the streets. New people skulking into town with new wares to sell to the soon to be tourists. As the whole town is run by six families there is tension rising.1. Restaurants and bars. 2. Clothes retailers. 3. Newsagents. 4. Tobbacco shops. 5. Hardware shops. 6. Construction.
The Outsiders rent overpriced venues from which they operate as estate agents, buckets, spades and general beach stuff, nail designers, handbag sellers, sunglasses, oils and potions, tattoo artists, bar singers that really shouldn't sing, new eastern ladies threatening the white booted ladies that live here all year, small gifted Romanian children who can physically squeeze themselves through barred and bolted windows. It's like some sort of giant theatre.
The locals are muttering..."Hoooozaaat...where from....what street live on....who is renting to he actually selling meat....where he get house to sell?"
Oh, and the invisible wife has reeled in an Englishman with a silver sports car. Should someone warn him?


  1. 'I've just come down from the isle of Skye, I'm no very big and I'm awful shy.'
    Do I get a prize please?

  2. Drat and I had just got out of the bath deal. You must have like a giant monitor.

  3. It's Donald. That's the answer.

  4. You people are too smart for me. I shall have to go up a level.

  5. Well, you guys have different eyes from me, cause I can't see a Donald in there anywhere. Not a Duck. Not a Trump.
    And Rosie, what was that about having just got out of the bath?

  6. The bath full of euros. Donald where's yer troosers...

  7. Idle thoughts: Sorry, deleted your Andy Stewart comment by mistake. I was forced to watch his hogmanay shows. It left me in bad shape, ha, ha.

  8. I thought the bath full of euros was the price I had to pay for my copy of the book (minus proof-reading fees). I thought I was confused, but now I can't tell if I am or not.


New Confectionary