My Handsome Harrison
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How very annoying…
Monthly Archives: December 2015
Morecambe Christmas Illuminations
Now that the yuletide festivities are almost over, I would like to draw attention, now that I’ve had a chance think about it, to the state of Morecambe’s Christmas Illuminations.
Let’s look at the first one. There are a few identical examples of this one around Morecambe – and I am concerned. Concerned is the wrong word, what I mean to say is, I am completely confused by the following illumination.
What confuses me about it is this:
Clearly, it says it is from Morecambe. But is it to me? Is it to Morecambe? Is it to visitors to Morecambe? Do we still have any? Particularly at Christmas?
What does it mean?
As each of the signs is hung above a main road facing the promenade, I can only conclude that each sign is directed – quite literally – at Grange-over-Sands as they face us across Morecambe Bay. This is a nice sentiment, but unfortunately unless you have a very powerful telescope and a clear day with no heat haze, one would be completely unable to see the signs from Grange-over-Sands.
I am joking, of course, but not about being confused.
Being perpetually confused is my default setting as I get older 😆
Clearly, this sign is not one of Lancaster’s cast offs from last year, but it is clearly an example of something that has not been thought through very well.
On a serious note, I’m bringing these to your attention so hopefully they are not reused again like they were this year. We can do better, surely?
So, in the tradition of saving the best till last I show you my second and final example of the exquisite quality of Illuminations lavished upon Morecambe for Christmas 2015.
This is a perfect example of something which, once you’ve seen it, you can never unsee.
This illumination, my friends, I like to call the “Fabulous Sex Octopus.”
Just look at it.
Look into those starry eyes.
Isn’t it fabulous?
“You scumbag! You maggot..!”
Just picked up a couple who were drunkenly fuckin’ ‘n’ jeffin’ yelling at each other at the taxI office as I pulled up.
After a sneaky “Now shut up, you bastard” out of the booze-slick side of his mouth to his Mrs, the husband told me their destination and off we went.
They were like male and female Shane McGowans while he was on his last remaining choppers slurring niceties to each other for my benefit, with the guy breaking off briefly to tell me it was safe to pull out at a t-junction.
By the time we got to their destination their quarrel was forgotten and they began contemplating more amorous pursuits. Well he was.
“You know you when we gerrin?” he ventured.
“Yesh?”
“rrrrrRrrrrrowwwrrrrr!!!” (think Roy Orbison)
I think she coughed vomit into her own mouth as they left.
See. Romance is alive and drunkenly rutting it’s piss and gin-soaked way into 2016.
Merry Christmas, you filthy animals!
What is/was a Paper Boy?
I posed this question to Harrison and Elsie. Here are their replies – and a bit of impromptu hilarity.
Come spend an hour with me in my taxi
By the way, I no longer smoke 😆
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