As I drove past the seaside village of Fairbourne all seemed normal, until i needed to take a sh*t and drove into the sorrowful abyss of hyper-misery that is the village itself. Inside the WC there are concrete dividers that all have glory holes that i was later informed that its simply what the locals do on a Saturday night.
I took care of my business first and we began to potter about the town opting to stay a few miles down the road for the night. The first thing amiss was the disproportionate amount of ginger people that all looked the same, wherever we went there was a ginger that nearly looked identical to the first ginger hybrid we first saw. After a few hours we had sampled the indigenous peoples levels of intelligence and i genuinely believe there is a government social engineering experiment that is using Fairbourne as a test case.
Just what are the government putting into the water treatment facilities that render the tribal and seemingly incestuous Fairbournians so backward? The Locals are extremely regressive, loathe outsiders, other cultures and they view domestic violence as a Village sport with Black Mamba (spice) and frosty Jacks a local compulsory staple of any given night.
On a finishing note i regret that i have no further time to spare to write about the stories we were told about local fairbournians sacrificing goats in winter above the village at a stone alter to appease the sea gods and the way they just stop, stare at gawk at you, as if they have never seen normality before. It reminded me of the apes at the monolith in a space odyssey 2001.
Post-Script Simply put if you need to take a sh*t think twice and ask yourself “Is It worth exposing my soul to this utter human grief pit” YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED…AVOID AT ALL COSTS. END MESSAGE.
