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Whitstable
Reviews

From: beach
Category: Art
Date: 17 July 2005

Review

beach life in England ranges from repulsive to cringemakingly disgusting. You are either assailed by sewage ridden luke warm at best water, pissed up pissing louts, ten penny arcades, condom/human shit/syringe strewn cobble stone beaches, and foul frozen fish and chips. Or you can go to a boutique resort like Whitstable.

Here things are much cleaner.. You may enjoy sipping cool whie wine al fresco, eating strawberries and crustacea, the yacht club in black tie and dowdy dresses, listening to jazz in your bohemian front garden with a view of orange sun setting over the harbour, groups of pleasant employed young people having a great time, nice clap board houses, wicker picnic hampers, lovely antique shops to pick up a bargain, the crab and shingle fresh fish rest-au-rant, and all together a lovely time.

The latter option may induce suicidal thoughts, and a desire for the annihilation of the human race with its smiling face.

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