Postcard from Lytham St Annes

As several other people have been kind enough to send postcards from their travels, I feel inclined to greet  you all from my home town of Lytham St Annes. It truly is like being on holiday every day of the year.

I came to live here twenty-one years ago and now that I have retired I have no plans to move elsewhere. It  is one of the finest of English seaside towns. I think this would become apparent to anybody who was  fortunate enough to take just a short saunter down our main streets. You will meet mostly English people,  with a smattering of Scots but seldom, if at all will you stumble across a migrant, refugee or immigrant  from sunnier climes. Consequently, we have very little crime. I often go to bed without my pyjamas as I know  I am unlikely to be disturbed.

There are still some fine and gracious buildings, several decent hotels and for the elderly, a cornucopia of  Nursing, Residential and Rest Homes. We have a varied choice in Funeral Directors, most of whom know, or  knew the people they serve.

The landscape is flat which makes it wheelchair friendly. Persons of a younger disposition may even enjoy  cycle trips without the breathlessness that comes in the inner cities. Our bus stops are festooned with  hanging baskets.

However, it is the people who make it such a special place to live in. In fact, I met one gem of a gentleman  just today. His name is Dennis. He is 87 and fit as a fiddle if a little deaf. He has shunned the effeminacy  of dentures and speaks with a broad Yorkshire accent. He used to be a farmer but retired following an  unsuccessful haemorrhoid reduction. During our conversation Dennis made several statements that I thought  you might like to hear. It is indicative of the kind of person who lives here in sunny Lytham St Annes.

We are governed by idiots.

Corbyn is dangerous but it’s McDonnell we have to watch; he is mad, Marxist, ruthless and sly.

Diane Abbott is thicker than the pigshit I used to shovel.

My Grandson voted Labour. I told him if he does it again he is being struck out of my will.

If Corbyn gets in I will have nothing left in my will to give to anybody.

I’m sick of all those foreign scroungers who step off the plane with their hand out.

I’m sick of all those stupid politicians who give them something.

I’ve paid tax since I was 21 and never had anything back (and didn’t expect anything either) until my wife  became poorly and needed to see the doctor.

The NHS will break this country.

Look over there; that hoist for the Missus must have cost £2000. I took it back to th’ospital and they said,  “We don’t take stuff back. Just give it away. I’ve got a room full of other stuff they gave us that I’ve got  to take to the tip” What a bloody waste.

Could you use a commode?

I won’t vote for any party that gives our money away to foreign states. You know they actually borrow money  to give money away. Stupid buggers. They take us for mugs.

We are mugs.

The BBC. Full of Lefty bastards.

This is just a brief snapshot of the fine vista that awaits you if you should choose to holiday in England  at Lytham St Annes on the Sea, Lancashire. We assure you of the warmest and most sensible of welcomes.

JWP ©