Read All About Shit!

North Devon's weekly source of print news, the North Devon Journal, is an often entertaining read. By either wallowing in the banality of the region's lack of newsorthy stories or audaciously reporting worthless but incendiary piffle, it dances the journalistic jig of polarising press opinions for maximum effect; its letters page is rarely less than three packed pages long. Contrived and reactionary, it displays the best and worst excesses of the tabloid industry in a charmingly parochial capsule.

North Devon, not Royston Vasey. Honest.

But whoever writes the advertising hoardings for said newspaper is clearly taking the absolute fucking piss. And hats, scarves and cockrings off to them, for they've provided me with a much-needed chuckle on my daily commute for some years now. And whilst I've often  - to my eternal regret - neglected to capture these belief-defying snapshots of headline hysteria, these following piccies are those rare moments that I've managed to grab an indelible image of a bonkers billboard.

I don't know whether to be delighted that I live in an area of such incident-free inconsequence that the above triviality is the primary selling point of the local paper, or disgruntled that those responsible for it clearly aren't trying.

North Devon's well-meaning but ultimately flawed attempt at tackling diversity in the employment sector.

You can see his cock and everything.

Yes, the heating arrangements of a handful of
village pedants is apparently of vital concern to the entire region.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Barnstaple's mediocre
Just like this poem

Should have been frigging promoted.

Life in the hood.
Betty's accusatory stance regarding her missing garden ornaments was North Devon's #1 story that week. I can't tell you how it affected me. No really, I can't.