abstract
| - We got up early this morning because Devon is a long way from North Wales. My brother, Rhys, had Coco-pops for breakfast but I had toast because Coco-pops turn the milk brown and make it look like diarrhoea. Rhys can't spell diarrhoea even though he's in year nine but he says he doesn't care because he's too cool for school, which means he's an idiot. Mam says Rhys is an undiagnosed dyslexic, which also means he's an idiot. Rhys can't spell "dyslexic" either, because he is an idiot. Mam drove the car for ages until we got to the motorway when Dad took over. We don't use the motorway very often because there isn't one near us, but Dad says it's “a good way to get from A to B” which doesn't make sense because we're going from Ruthin to Shaldon, which is R to S - or Wales to England, which is W to E. Rhys says it probably makes sense in Welsh but that wouldn't make any difference except that Wales to England would be Cymru to Lloegr, which is C to Ll. I told Rhys that he'd know that if he wasn't an idiot, so he hit me. Dad said to give it a rest in the back so I read my book about World of Warcraft and Rhys looked at the pictures of boobies in his magazine - it's called Nuts because you'd have to be a mental to waste £1.50 looking at boobies. After a while it started raining. Everyone else complained, but I like it when it rains because I can follow the raindrops across the window with my tongue. Rhys says only a wanker would do that, but he's the one that spends money looking at boobies. I asked Dad what Devon was like and he said it was the seaside so it would be like Rhyl only with fewer Scousers. He said we were staying on a campsite but not in a tent because only morons use tents in the British climate, which was why he'd rented a static caravan. I asked if that meant we'd get an electric shock when we touched it, which was a joke but no one else got it. It was ages before we got to the end of the motorway. England is huge! If you drove that far in Wales you'd end up in the sea or in Cardiff, which is worse. The towns in Devon have funny names like Beer which is where Mam says Dad should live, and Teignmouth which is pronounced Tinmouth and which sounds like a robot. When we got to Shaldon Dad parked next to the static caravan and we unloaded the car. The caravan had no wheels and was piled up on bricks, so maybe there are more Scousers in Devon than Dad thinks.
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