The trouble with the Ramblers Association is that they never seem to get to the point. And if, by chance, some do get to the point there will be a proportion who will be so tired they'll keep going and drop right into the sea.
It's a fact that True is a very small place as I mentioned earlier and is continually surrounded by a dense sea fog which goes some way to mitigate the strangeness of its people. The inhabitants have grown to believe that they are God's gift but they have not met up with Noel Edmonds yet so their deflation awaits his introduction there (a prospect to salivate any number of witless TV media execs no doubt). Should our Noel chance upon this demi-paradise he'll be sure of a welcome invoking that age-old custom whereby the hairy chinned one would get the shaft with coconuts sphinctorially inserted until top and bottom are mirror images. Squeal or no squeal?
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