Rubbish, I say. With knobs on! Of course this is a real beach. Why, just look what I've found for you this morning, Hound. Rubbish with knobs on. Oh, and some graffiti at the end.
|Nice morning for it|
|Glinting, glimmering high tide|
|A drowned groyne|
|We'll have to follow the revetment at the end of the promenade to find any rubbish|
|Through we go...|
|... and out the other side, looking back|
|Behind the revetment lie the fantasy killers, such as this discarded container...|
|... and this plastic bottle...|
|... and this, uh, biodegradable lemon peel. Is this it? Is this the best we can do?|
|What about these polystyrene packing puffs? Wait a minute... These aren't rubbish, they're whelk egg cases!|
|I hardly think a bit of smashed up revetment counts as rubbish.|
|Well That's it. That's all the rubbish I could find. Perhaps there'll be more when the tide goes out?|
|Hang on. We almost forgot about the knobs.|
|"Knobs! Faahsands ov'em!" Well, a few, at any rate|
|Ready for your close-up?|
And here's the graffiti:
If I didn't know better*, I'd suspect that Ms Scarlet woz 'ere...
* I'm sure any graffiti left by Ms Scarlet would be better than this. And there'd be capital H & E!