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I remember as a child how the sea literally bubbled and sometimes seemingly glowed on many a night. It wasn't long before all the fishing industry was finding in their nets were fifty-year old used condoms, plastic bottles, and every kind of disposable 20th century consumer packaging imaginable. That caused a bit of a stink (literally), as much of what back in my Dad's day the people thought was being recycled, was actually being thrown into vast secret landfill sites.
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My Dad has told me how back then the government tried to encourage everyone to recycle, but didn't tell the people that to actually recycle the plastics was not economically viable. It was cheaper to carry on producing more and more new plastics. So they secretly created these vast landfills of purely plastics.
To be fair there had been attempts to pour chemicals on these landfills that were supposed
to help the plastics degrade.
These attempts didn't work out how they had hoped, and when the landfills washed into the
sea the part degraded plastics slurry covered the surface of the water with some massively
poisonous film of sticking chemical shit.
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This stopped oxygen reaching the water, so the fish gradually suffocated. Those that didn't suffocate were cooked to death as the water started heating up, the thick chemical film acted like a green-house, trapping the baking heat that radiated down from the sun.
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Ah, time check! The water taxi will be passing by soon.
My chance of temporary escape, into a synth-a-hol stupor of roaring drunkenness.
Love it!
Drink as much as you want, get absolutely wasted, and then walk out of the bar stone-cold sober.
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Although when the Anti-Alc filters aren't working, the hang-over can last for days though. Synth-a-hol is lethal stuff, in fact poisonous to the system in the long-term. It's only the Anti-Alc air-lock on the way out of the bar that feeds drunken revellers the antidote. The regular filter system breakdowns mean a lot of people ending up in hospital to get the antidote before their system closes down, or taking an inadequate home remedy from the local chemist.
Oh well you drink the stuff, you take the risk.
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Fiction - A Man with Two Horses By Lazyswede
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I met a man today that had two horses, but he could not get the horses to go the way he wanted them to. The gray mare wanted to take the footpath to the left and the old chestnut mare wanted to take the footpath to the right, while the man wanted to go back the way he came because he knew he would be late for his dinner if he took either of the other two paths.
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Fiction - Halloween - One For The Road
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by Nicholas Boldock
Jason Travis tip-tapped the steering wheel in time to the music blaring from the car's speakers. He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard - 16:53. The sky was darkening, even at this early summer hour, not as a result of the setting sun but brought about by the lumbering grey rain clouds overhead.
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Fiction - Telling Lies by Nicholas Boldock
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At half past five Harry arranged all the papers on his desk into neat piles, as he always did before going home. He shoved his pens into the blue plastic desk tidy and shut down his PC. He performed this same ritual every evening, did it automatically, even unconsciously. He felt overjoyed to be finally going home - the days seemed to be getting longer and longer and longer - even though home, to Harry, was only marginally more bearable than work.
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Fiction - C(P)U On The Other Side
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by Rich Mills
Roy carelessly tossed the apple core in the bin next to his computer. Constructed in a moment of sheer mindless boredom the waste-paper bin was an amalgam of newspaper strips and PVA glue, coated in a thick yellowing layer of varnish.
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Columns - Oh My God - They Killed Kenny - You Hirsute, Scottish Bastard! By The Silver Fox
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Against every humanitarian plea, against every civilised instinct, against reason and sense themselves,
they did it.
Ken Bigley is dead; a victim of a struggle about which he (like many of us)
neither wished to participate in nor particularly understood.
His headless corpse
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Columns - Tales from the Lonely Tavern - Final Edition By King Rat - Professional Yorkshireman
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As me 'n brother made way to ye olde town for weekend spree, we circumnavigated giant telly
yon Victoria square. Now thee been told that giant telly cost a pretty packet and sum of
English pounds. On slight sight of surrounding acres there was but one weather-beaten
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Columns - Here I Go Again, On The Moan By The Silver Fox
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Crikey, www.catsandkittens ; been a while, hasn't it? How things seem to have changed since
last we got together. I love what some of you have done with your hair, I must say,
and how long has that been there? No, no - it's nice, it really is ... you just don't
see many of them these days, that's
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Columns - Eel Llenassac presents Smokers Corner
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I somehow found my way to the bedroom last night where I was blessed with the presence of the
Sliver Fox, The Manchurian Candidate, Cowfish and Shindig (including their every reliable roadie,
Stevo Ravishing Rick Wraggs.
I had a nice good old-fashioned drunken
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Columns - Something Hot in a Cold Country - Part 2 By Jane Foster
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In my role at thisisUll.com I seem to have taken it upon myself to be the reporter,
nay, the spread-the-worder - of all things multicultural in the tiny crack of the
universe that is 'ull.
In using the word crack please
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Columns - Steve Regan: the King of Hull
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I wonder how Humberside police chief David Westwood is frittering away his time as he waits and waits to learn his fate after being suspended from duty pending the result of an inquiry.
I rather hope that he might use this enforced rest period to take up a hobby which he once used to practise with some enthusiasm.
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Columns - Tales from the Lonely Tavern - Edition Four By King Rat - Professional Yorkshireman
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How do kinsman and other lesser bein's (am only jestin' ya). August 1st on Sabbath was national Yorkshire day, by glad to say that thee rejoiced without limitations.
In one day thee crossed the boundaries of North, West and Eastern Yorkshire, walked the moors, a pint a' Theakstons and consumed a well cooked piece a' rump.
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