Twillingate Fish Dock

stinks! At least, so say the man, woman and lovely shaggy dog I meet on the quay. Actually, the dog thinks it smells rather good really.

Also, simper, simper, the bloke thinks I'm in my forties. Never one to disoblige, I merely grin, consigning my passport to the fiery furnace, my poor abandoned underage children to the care of social services, and my grandchildren simply works of art and fiction.