Tuesday, 13 December 2022

Trigger Alert

From time to time I’m contacted by you my loyal viewers/readers about what Brew Street is like in the present day. **BEWARE, this post is mildly political, so I’m issuing a ‘Trigger Alert’ for those who like to be offended on behalf of other people. But in contrast, rubber fanatics will enjoy this post, so you take your choice whether to read on or clutch your new TT gauge Flying Scotsman and quickly pass by. 

The illicit moonshine business is long gone, it being exposed by fluorescent yellow spandex wearing teetotal caffeine free do gooders on the local council. However the railway still serves the wharves, but any rail borne activity is based around breaking up old wagons and other metal recycling. 

A handful of small businesses use the few remaining buildings, more on that in a moment. Looking to the near future, planning is well underway to redevelop the whole site and build luxury apartments for foreign investors, the waterside location making it very attractive for big money made during the plague and the business opportunities it created in 2020/21/22

During The Zombie Apocalypse of Doom, as one of the many dodgy PPE contracts awarded, Nasal Nigel, who at the time ran a rubber factory at Brew Street making sticky green rubber sex attire and other dubious items for several back bench MPs, earned a contract making rubber plague masks. Unlike the light blue paper dishcloth ones (always worn under the nose) still much favoured by virtue signalling nervous types, bungalow dwellers, Prius drivers and those with rotten teeth in present day Little Britain, his rubber ones (available in Southern National bus green of course) were extremely effective at blocking out everything. They were so good, wearers tended to suffer suffocation, because not only did they block the plague, they also blocked out 99.765% of any air intake.

After just a few weeks in circulation, whilst they got quite a following within certain circles, the rubber masks were hastily withdrawn from the market. Surplus stock was then turned in to underwear liners aimed at those who unfortunately suffer prostate problems, or simply get over excited hanging around at bus stations, and of course railway stations when Class 37 ‘top and tailed’ bright yellow ultrasonic rail testing trains throb past. 

Oh yes, as an award to his services to ‘health’, back in the summer, Nasal Nigel was awarded a peerage, he is now to be known as Sir Nasal Nigel, and as if that isn’t enough he’s had a Boris Bus named after him 

**The ‘Trigger Alert’ has now passed, so you can peel away your rubber eyepatches and look forward to something more fluffy in this ‘space’ tomorrow. 


A big thank you to those who support the almost daily nonsense www.buymeacoffee.com/Nevardmedi3

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