Monday, December 08, 2003

The Festering Season
Congratulations to Dorchester in Dorset, not six miles away from Scaryduck Towers, voted the Worst Christmas Lights in Britain for the third year in a row. A display of parsimony that would have delighted Dickens’ Ebeneezer Scrooge. Our picture shows the actual lights on South Street in the town made famous by Thomas Hardy. Oh, the humanity!

Spray-can philosophy

There’s grafitti and there’s grafitti. There’s mindless tagging by that guy Zzzyzz who does nothing but tour railway lines and underpasses with his paint tin, and there’s proper, good old fashioned grafitti with a proper, good old fashioned message.

On a railway bridge just outside Poole is the word “BITCH” in red paint and foot-high letters. It’s there, it’s iconic and you just can’t miss it. For years, I used to drive under a bridge in Reading on the way to work which was daubed with the words “Keli loves Bros”. She’s probably gone off them by now (unless she’s a mentallist), the tramp who lived under the arch has died, but the words are still there. Some bastard, however pained over “Fat Nobodies in Company Cars”, which summed up the Thames Valley corporate commuting experince in five words.

Get it here
Clicky to embiggen
However, I consider myself fortunate, nay priveleged, to live not two hundred yards from this potentially libellous daubing. And a fine, fine work of art it is. Just take a moment to admire the time and effort that went into this slogan. The steady hand, the straight, well-proportioned lettering, screaming at you like the front page of the Sun.
This is no half-educated quarter-wit. This is a highly planned and perfectly executed message to the people of Weymouth from someone who clearly thinks that you really, really need to be told that Lee Spencer wants a go on your bottom.

Either that, or he supports Fulham.

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