reasons i heart yorkshire #273:

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It's a brisk Sunday morning in Heptonstall; a small Yorkshire village of Hovis advert cobbles and Sylvia Plath grave fame. Sir Roger enters the post-office, he has the glint of the nicotine deprived in his eye and the wobble of a Saturday night enjoyed in his step.

"I'll have twenty marlboro lights, please."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't serve you."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm underage and I'm not allowed to sell them to you."

"You're underage? WHAT?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm not 16 so I can't sell you them, but if you come back tomorrow when Tony's working you can buy them then."

You cannot ever beat small town Yorkshire logic. They've got their finger on the pulse of addiction. Perfect.

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Tags » heptonstall sylvia plath word thief yorkshire

20 October 2011
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reasons i heart yorkshire #273:

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