George is chatting to the much celebrated posh average photographer ‘Oh dear boy’ Ivan Locksmith about home film processing. When Ivan doesn’t have a camera to his face, he tends to chew his nails - he’s doing it right now. It’s a bad habit, especially when they’re covered in toxic photographic chemicals, with almost-spent photo print fixer being the most tasty with its bitter metallic salty taste.
Over in nearby Armageddon, the sky is particularly treacherous looking, the daylight being literally sucked away, and despite it being mid morning, the photocell on the streetlight has made the bulb turn on. Streetlighting fanatics I’m sure will be in awe of the Mercury vapour glow. I think the lantern might be made by GEC, but I’m no expert, but I’m sure one of you, my loyal readers will.
In Little Britain, streetlight spotting is almost as popular as bus and trainspotting, it attracting a similar demographic which generally consists of lonely single late-middle aged men with an aversion to soap. The saving on soap and other hygiene products like deodorant and water, can then be spent on real ale with silly names in ‘old man pubs’, and of course yet another BR blue Class 37 to add to their already extensive collection.
On the right, Shamus and Harry the Hammer are eyeing up the old wheelbarrow, and are wondering if it might be missed for a while. They have a crate of hooch that needs dropping over at Beryl’s a mile or two away. She would normally drive over to collect it, but she’s 97 and is currently halfway through yet another speeding ban.
And finally, over there in the distance, for some reason the locomotive has been accidentally assigned a crew of 3, so they’ve just tossed a coin to see who gets to go to the pub. But it looks like they’ve just dropped the coin and lost it. Duh.
If you enjoy these posts, feel free to send some new year joy www.buymeacoffee.com/Nevardmedi3