Hit the beach

I forget we’ve got a beach in Bournemouth, it’s well good. Well, sometimes. And those times it’s well good are the times when there’s nobody on the thing. And the problem there is there’s only nobody on it at like two in the morning, meaning most of the times I go to the beach when it’s at its best is when I’m half-cut. Well, in the case of last night, when I’m absolutely blotto.

I do wish the fat, bald, lobster people who populate the sandy expanse on any given day would just go away and let me dig a big hole to live in in peace. But no, they insist on thinking just because it’s a public area that gives them the right to be there… oh wait, yeah. Still, can they go away? I think it’s a fair request.

Anyway, having a beach is better than not having a beach. I’ve decided now. It’s great for night and morning missions. Though sand is stupid.

Yeah, that’s all you’re getting from me today. I’m fucked. Two tomorrow.

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