West Country
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“GEET ARF MOI LARRRRNND!!!!.”
~ A West Country Farmer
The West Country is the country in the west; the west of England if you want to be pedantic. It is characterised by rolling hills, white horses and quaint little villages where everyone knows and indeed is related to everyone else.
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[edit] Small Towns
The small towns of the West Country typically consist of one street, one shop, two or three houses and five pubs. The more modern ones also have a Post Office. These quaint little communities are known for their loveable characters who each have their own little quirks.
“Arr, 'ee c'n ge'm d'n pub. Arse.”
~ A typical West Country villager on turning unintelligibility into an art form
“Why yes, one can procure such things in the local public house.”
~ A West Country scholar on a translation exercise
The pubs of these small towns are a quite remarkable example of economics that make no fucking sense. More people own a pub in the West Country than those who don't, and yet they still make money hand over fist. It may be because there is nothing else to do there... unless you live in a big town.
[edit] Big Towns
[edit] Pointless Monuments
The West Country is home to a useless ring of stones. And another one. Basically there's enough of them that it's no wonder it took people so long to get around to discovering fire. And they still had the White Horse phase to get through yet.
[edit] White Horses
The White Horses of the West Country are not real in the sense that they breathe, neigh and eat grass. In fact, they are not real in most senses, except in the sense that they are not. The White Horses are not to be confused with grey horses, which are white, although several White Horses appear to turning grey under the litter dropped on them by rampant tourists.
Most White Horses were made out of Stone Age talcum powder by Neanderthals who... what were they trying to do exactly? What were they actually hoping to achieve by making huge white horses? Maybe it was a virility thing, it usually is.
“Moi Whoite Horrse is biggerr 'n yorrs!”
~ A hypothetical Neanderthal on the size of his White Horse
Anyway, more recently some newer ones have been made from crushed iPods. Can there really be a better use? We don't really know why anyone made these ones either, and we're not going to ask.
[edit] Rambling
Rambling is the favourite pastime of everyone in the West Country. It involves putting on five layers of waterproof clothing (leading to an appearance resembling a Christmas pudding), putting on a pair of hiking boots that are two sizes too big, and stomping around the countryside, dropping litter and shouting over the noise of the wind about how lovely everything is. Around seventy people are recorded missing every year after going rambling, many having fallen into deep pits of mud, never to surface again. It is believed that the rest are abducted by the hippies who live in bushes in and around the area, so that they can be close to Stonehenge's aura.
To accurately reflect these dangers, rambling has been reclassified as an extreme sport, and it is in fact now illegal in Gloucestershire.
