Fife village gripped by yob mayhem
Aye.
When on a blipwalk numbering two and you decide to go "off piste" and follow a defined but little-used path, and when eventually, after pushing through nettles, brambles and weeds, you and your chum emerge from the bushes onto the path covered in sticky willy and come face-to-face with a couple taking an evening stroll, the two gentlemen should not look at each other and snigger like schoolboys, only reinforcing any assumption of bourgeoise decadence. No.
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