It's inevitable, I suppose, that, once let off the school leash, and given a bit of sunshine, a young man's fancy will turn to thoughts of climbing up public fountains and statues. Just as inevitable, then, that he will jump off in an attempt to impress his shy, retiring, tattoed girlfriend. At which point he will almost certainly discover one of the many unique and different ways in which a leg can be broken.
Here on the fashionable East Cliff of Ramsgate, we have many public adornments, no doubt placed here by our Victorian ancestors for the very purpose of amusing hooded teenagers sporting unmentionable piercings.
That said, I think I'd be right in saying that the Victorians at least used to put water in the fountains. Since the desertification of the South East, however, no such water has flowed, apart from on the odd official occasion, such as the Queen's birthday, when the taps are briefly turned on to perform the traditional ceremony of The Tipping In Of The Fairy Liquid.
2 comments:
Once more, RSR, you have hit the nail firmly and squarely on the head with your witty, dead-eyed silver hammer of philosophical insight.
RSR, I hope I never have the misfortune to see your cock up.
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