BEWARE OF THE BOBBLE HAT
A brief wander about the streets of Edinburgh this morning afforded the perfect antidote to an otherwise delightful summer’s day in the capital.
First to Calton Hill, and the slow trudge to the summit, ankle-deep in the detritus of last night’s lovemaking, booze, narcotics and clumsily spilt sausage suppers. And, inexplicably, an abundance of Cheesy Wotsits.
In a bricked-up doorway separating the private Regent Terrace Gardens on the other side from the heaving hoi polloi on this, we encountered ‘PIPSQUEAK WAS HERE!!!’