A suicide pact with Dagenham!
Crawley has the grave robbers then. I lied about the vomit-chucking louts. Last night, we were woken by shouts in our cul-de-sac. It has access to the next main road by foot. I peeked through the window and some slapper was kneeling on the ground 'barking' at the tarmac. Sure enough, I go out on my bike road this morning and there it is, another incident of vomit to be recorded in the town register of Pewking Tossers. Earlier in the afternoon I went to Crawley rugby club to watch the 2nd XV. Some of the so-called supporters had been drinking heavily and I felt embarassed for the kids that had to put up with torrent of foul-mouthed dickheads shouting abuse at the opposition team. There are some 500,000 words in the OED and these mindless morons have a mastery of what, four words in regular use. I believe that when my wife and I moved to Crawley we raised the IQ. Dysfunctional families reign supreme.
Conversations like "Sid, where's yer bruvver? Wot's 'e doin?" "Dunno dad, but las' I 'eard 'e woz upstairs givvin' 'is sister one." Jest perhaps, but a grain of truth.