First Impressions count

At precisely 0815 on August the 6th, 1945, America ushered the world into the Atomic Age by dropping the 'Little Boy' device on the heavily populated Japanese city of Hiroshima. The resulting explosion levelled 70% of the city and killed 30% of the population immediately. Living through this horrific scene of catastrophe and misery that followed the bombing would still be better than staying a week in Bridlington. For my sins, I have been forced into this unenviable position. Bridlington sits on the east coast of Yorkshire. The town actually perches on the highest area for coastal erosion rate in Europe. This is the best thing about Bridlington as it means the fucking town will soon no longer exist. I arrived at my B&B last night and immediately set out to find somewhere to eat. I searched high and low, in every nook and every cranny, up hill and down dale, but could I find anywhere open to eat? Could I fuck. It would seem that Bridlington is closed on a Monday. It is probably closed every day, to be honest.(this was written three days ago. It's taken that long for me to finish this post as Bridlington has sapped my will to live...)

When I was a callow youth, I was taken to Bridlington, again, against my better wishes. The only memory I have of that trip was a visit to a waxworks museum. This place was so bad and dilapidated that the exhibits
looked like melted candles. I distinctly remember the Elephant Man model was much more disfigured and fear inducing than John Merrick himself. In fact, John Merrick looked like a fucking supermodel by comparison. This is the only thing I knew about Bridlington and nothing has changed since then. Bridlington had its heyday in 1956 and never looked back. Mind you, it never looked forward either. It's been stuck in the 1950's ever since. I will post up some photos of Bridlington over the weekend, then you will know the true horror of this place.

You would be better off reading the latest Pledge Manner's review (for this book) rather than thinking too hard about Bridlington:

Iconoclasm Sweeps Cappadocia

John left on Thursday, thank God. at least the beatings have stopped and I have regained feeling down the right side of my body. I no longer have the nightmares and neither do I have to check behind every door when I enter a room. As a replacement for John, Craig moved in. He had to move out of Marcus' place as Marcus' missus was coming back from a year long stint teaching Polish/Swedish/English/whatever in China and they had a lot of catching up to do. It probably involves that rope contraption Marcus has set up in his front room, 'for her yoga', or so he tried to explain it away to me. Whatever they were planning on doing, Craig was no longer welcome to sleep on the futon in Marcus' front room and he was cast out on the streets again. But as soon as Craig moved in we had a sexy party, full of topless teens and spiked punch. Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez.

Clay's gone!! Everybody say PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

On Friday Claire and I finished off the site, along with the help from a First Year student, Richard. The three of us tore the site a new asshole along with some help of a serving of grease from the Osbaldwick chipshop. The Osbaldwick chippy is the best in York by far, I used to live around the corner and it was a regular haunt of mine after getting in from packing computer games all day at Gamestation on a Friday night. It still keeps its reputation high but gone are the photographs of various celebrities that bought their fish and chips there. Among the illustrious stars that have had a portion of 'haddock, chips and scraps, open' are Sir Michael Caine, Dame Joanna Lumley, Dame Cilla Black, and not only Ant, but Dec too. Hot on the heels of such stellar customers, Osbaldwick fisheries was also visited by the living legend that is Bob Carolgees, though whether Spit the Dog was in attendance I never found out. Mind you, having a dog that spits everywhere would not be the most hygienic visitor to a chip shop and if the authorities found out the Osbaldwick fisheries would have been closed down in an instant. What these celebrities were doing buying chips in such a far flung place as Osbaldwick I never found out. It's not beyond reasonable doubt that these stars would visit York, or even buy chips at some point during their stay. But for them to venture out the land of 'here be Dragons...' that is Osbaldwick for a portion of heart attack in batter still baffles me.

Although it is unknown whether Amy Whinehouse visited the Osbaldwick Chippy, she would always be welcome. As long as she didn't bring her drugs.