All Around Me Are Familiar Faeces...

...worn out pleases, worn out faeces.

So much for my holiday in Weymouth, I may just as well have gone to Margate!
Portland Bill, with it's ships of war and bloody great big prison, somehow managed to come across as a touch more cheerful than Weymouth's main seafront.
Maybe an idea for Margate, eh?
Forget about all that arty, farty Turner Centre nonsense or once-a-month fish market (what bloody good is that to anyone?). Let's get a prison erected there and bring in some drab and dreary looking boats with guns on them, rather than the drab and dreary looking ones that are already there without guns on them.
I'd suppose, with a bit of deft dredging, that we could even have Portland Bill's treacherous 'five tides crossing' just off the harbour arm and put on 'chav dunking shows' at the weekends. I still haven't forgiven them for what they did to my lovely coat, yet and perhaps I never will!
And for the icing on the cake, the town could be renamed Margate Jimmy.

I think that would put things in perspective, nicely!

ps. While on the subject of arty, farty nonsense, a Southside friend of mine tips me off that they're holding some kind of wake at the now defunct IOTA gallery there, this weekend. Is there any truth to that? I certainly wouldn't mind popping over for that, if only for the opportunity to say "Well, I suppose it's back to the drawing board, then!".

pps. I must be particularly bored this morning to have come across A WAKE FOR GALLERY IOTA, authored by none other than IOTA's Autistic Dictator (strange title), which I hope may be of some use to anyone who is even more bored than I.

ppss. Just thought I'd add that to reflect my feelings on nazism.