Through the hedge!

So the alarm goes off quite early in the morning, the smelly fetid finally decides to wash off a few millimeters of dirt with water (he's actually saving that for his wedding day, because for once in her unhappy life the future bride of the dishonorable Gaijn shouldn't have the urge to smear tiger balm under her nose when the stinker is around), picks out a clean T-shirt and stuff like that so that he can integrate the intense, aromatic smell of bacon into his shirt at breakfast, opens the Berta and thinks that he really should visit Dartmouth.

As always, the uninformed traveler has not planned much and has happened to stay in a small port town that is full of wonderful old buildings that are worth visiting.

Even the hotel he slept in was built in 1639...

So, put your cell phone in your misshapen paw and off you go to cheat...

What? To cheat?

Of course that's exactly what happened!

A damn, flightless bastard shat on his body and on his head!

...even if it was only a glancing blow, the dishonorable Gaijin felt the small, disgusting splashes and could see them too, although the majority of the remaining, perfectly marbled guano bomb fortunately landed next to the unnecessary person present.

These flying pigs!

Those disgusting bastards!

So let’s get out of here and go through the hedge!

Beautiful, winding little streets, framed by walls and trees covered in ivy and moss.

Coastal landscape with endless sandy beaches and small, picturesque fishing villages, yes, that's how it went the whole day!

It's very understandable that Pücha Roserl had her Schmanzgschichtln played out here, because here you get really horny just from the dangers in the landscape!

This is just not for the knee-scratchers, because they would soon decorate the front of oncoming traffic...

Which also makes it very difficult to take pictures the gaijin way, namely from the Berta.

There is no space to the left or right, the streets are extra narrow, and there is always someone driving around in a metal box everywhere.

Therefore, it seems to be relatively dangerous for the worthless Gaijin to stop somewhere, block the asphalt and as a result possibly become a buffer.

Let's hope for Ireland and less traffic, my dear, beautiful, alabaster-skinned, highly intelligent and beautifully formed reading circle members.

...

(Hehe... He wants less traffic!)