Originally Posted by
taxexile
thegents increasingly eccentric and anger fuelled outbursts on the brexit thread are quite understandable when one realises that his dream of a return to civilisation on either the south coast of the uk or in one of the sunnier eu states is quickly evaporating into thin air in much the same way as the value of the once mighty pound, and that the chances of his escape from self imposed exile in one of the sleaziest and most degrading locations on the planet become more and more unlikely as the harsh realities of brexit scupper his plans and vaporise his finances.
as i prepare for todays walk on this crisp but sunny spring morning on ilkley moor to the cow and calf gritstone outcrops, rest assured you have my sympathies for the predicament you find yourself in.
pie and chips at the sportsmans again for you today is it? chang wifebeater and cargos freshly ironed i hope.
there but for the grace of god and all that.
Been there and done that.....had my stint some years ago in Wharfedale and enjoyed it all immensely but have no urge to repeat the experience.
We all have to be somewhere but in truth the idea of having to spend one's time anywhere in Britain for any length of time is quite unappealing. Europe and the UK are still available to us without restriction but I think one will " on reste ici " as a permanent billet.
My local is 50 yards away on the beach, a fat old red sun dips behind the distant sea mists as the late afternoon zephyrs rustle the palm trees between us and the shore as we down our happy hour drinks in a bid to ward off the daily depression that we don't have to endure the lower class English youths and their lumpen forebears subsisting in their dreary grey and tediously predictable uniformity any more.
That's the thing, Tax, England is beautiful and enjoyable but the British are now really quite repellent and their suburbia is omnipresent.
No way will I go back there as I enter injury time.
I get really depressed when I see them all in their silly tracksuits, slack jawed tattooed ugliness, pushing their brats around, the endless fucking charity shops in every fucking high street, the betting shops, the Wetherspoons, the shabbiness of the British, the evening piss crawl through vomit strewn littered highways and byways, the dreary uniformity of endless housing estates bathed in sodium lighting, the sheer awful dullness of a nation that spends its entire lifetime waiting for holidays and fucking Xmas.
Thank you for reminding me Tax.