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Sophie Ellis-Bextor admired the gushing waters before her. “Oh, that is quite-”

“Breathtaking?” interrupted William Shakespeare.

“Are you having a go at me?” asked Ellis-Bextor. “I know you think I overuse that word.”

“No, no,” said Shakespeare, feigning innocence. “It’s not overused at all.”

“It’s not like you don’t bore me sometimes,” snapped the singing toff. “If I have to hear you bleating about another one of those sonnets.”

“What’s wrong with my sonnets?” asked Shakespeare.

“Just about everything. When I was working with Spiller, we had this joke about iambic pentameter, about the kinds of people who thought that was rhythm.”

“Oh fuck you,” said Shakespeare. “It’s always Spiller this, Spiller that with you. It’s like Groovejet is all you’ve ever done.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Groovejet,” said Ellis-Bextor. “And there’s nothing wrong with Spiller.”

With a swoosh of his ridiculous velvet jerkin, Shakespeare whirled round and strode off along the river bank. Ellis-Bextor opted not to follow him.

After 20 minutes or so, the pasty-faced vocalist had calmed down a touch and decided to go after the bard with the intention of making peace. As she rounded a bend in the river, she was greeted by an astonishing sight.

Shakespeare was standing on two stones in the middle of the river. His lower garments were lying discarded on the riverband and he was squatting so that his testicles were being buffetted by the cool waters cascading over a higher rock behind him.

Ellis-Bextor was aghast. “What… What are you doing?” she said, barely able to form the words.

“Isn’t it obvious?” screamed Shakespeare in a deranged tone, his voice cracking with the effort of suppressing his powerful emotions. “I’m trying to give you what you want. I’m trying to improve myself. I’m trying to win your approval.”

“How?” exclaimed Ellis-Bextor in stunned incomprehension.

Shakespeare stood up and raced over to her, completely naked from the waist down.

“Quickly,” he said. “Give me your hand before they warm up. Feel how taut they are.”

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Posted by Alex On September - 6 - 2011

5 Responses to “Visiting Golitha Falls on the River Fowey in Cornwall”

  1. Kevin Miles says:

    Best yet.

  2. Bonobo the Clown says:

    Dunno about Ellis-Bextor, but that won me over.

    The ignorant bitch doesn’t know how lucky she is.

  3. Jake says:

    Why have you got a list of countries across the top of the site? It’s stupid.

  4. Jake says:

    Oh, I see, you don’t answer genuine questions from genuine readers. Dick.

  5. Alex says:

    Every story is categorised by location so that older instalments are but a click away.

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