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<font color='#000000'>A Short Dissertation In Which We Learn Of The Perils Of Over Enthusiasm

Right, first of all I&#39;d like you all to know that this tale does not actually involve anyone you know. It was a friend. Really. *ahem*

To begin,
It was a lovely day, the 17th of September. The sun had shone all day long on the portion of this sceptered Isle, in which our story takes place. It being such a beautious day, and all that, our Hero decided that a jaunt to the beach was the order of the day. Having visited many local tackle shops & taking "sound" advise of the many & varied sea dogs therein, our Hero decided that a local haunt by the name of Atwick, on the Eastern coast of Gods most favoured County, would be the very spot to hopfully break in his new beach tackle.
After checking the local tide table, adding the obligotary hour, subtracting 13 minutes, dividing it by the price of a tin of beans & finally adding it to the number he first thought of, (why are tide tables written in this bizzarre alien code anyway, surely the people who write the #### things could adjust for BST) he discoveres that high water at Atwick was at 7:25 of the evening clock. After packing his trusty car, our hero kissed his ever doting wife on the cheek & bid her a fair evening. Heading due East, (well....not exactly due East as such, more of a Nor nor East, due to East being into the neighbor&#39;s bathroom) off he headed to this local hotspot, only to be confronted, on the clifftop, by another obviously more experienced adventurer.
"Any good" our hero enquired,
"Nah mate, bugger all doin&#39;," replied the bearded oracle
"No-one&#39;s caught owt here for months. Try up &#39;t&#39; cooast abit,
folks &#39;as bin catchin&#39; from Skipsea reg&#39;lar these past few
weeks"
"Ah, very well then. To Skipsea I must go. Good day to you
old man, I wish you the very best of luck on your venture"
"Eh?"

And so did our Hero, head up the coast to Skipsea.
Now some of you must know of Skipsea And it&#39;s amazing &#39;speed of light coastal erosion&#39; problem, unfortunately for him, our hero did not, as we shall presently see........


"Ah, muddy cliffs" thought himself,
"Not a problem for such an intrepid adventurer as myself"
And down the muddy, 50ft, steeply sloping & precarious cliff did he go.

Two hours of Piscatorial pleasure later (& incidentally hoiking out 3 plaice & a tiny weeny school bass) and its time to up sticks & wend his weary way back to the marital boudouir.

Now I know that you know what&#39;s coming, but bear with me, &#39;cos there&#39;s a moral coming along in a bit......

Now then, during the 2 hours of fish fighting fun it had started to rain.
"Rain&#33;&#33;&#33;" I hear you cry, "In Yorkshire, in September&#33;&#33;&#33;&#33;&#33;,
Surely not&#33;&#33;&#33;"
But rain it did.

Some maths as an interlude

Rain + soily cliff = FURKING GREAT MUDSLIDE&#33;&#33;&#33;


Interlude over


"O.k." thinks himself, "I&#39;ve got me trusty Petzl with me & a fairly hefty sand spike. I can get up this bugger easy-peasy"
But, try as he might our hero could not surmount the slippery, shifting mud of the cliff.
"Well, I&#39;ll be. I maybe should&#39;ve taken the hint when 3 ton of the bugger came sliding down behind me. Still, ne&#39;er mind I may have slipped down this cliff twice now, & covered myself in cak AND lost me fillting knife, but I just gotta do it"
And as the spider in the old Robert the Bruce story, up he went again. And again. And again, until he finally reached the top. Minus a wellie. And his bestest filleting knife.


So, what can be learned from this sorry tale of woe ?

1)Mud cliffs suck. Don&#39;t go down &#39;em in the dayligh & expect to find your way back in the dark.
2)Gravity is stronger than you.
3)Driving home in just your undies & one wellie can get you out of speeding tickets. ( the copper nearly pooed himself laughing at the sight of our hero, all covered in mud & mono-wellied)
4)Don&#39;t take advise from be-bearded weirdos on clifftops.
They will happily lead you astray.






Thank you & goodnight.</font>
 

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<font color='#0000FF'>If the lesson wasnt so serious I would suggest that if Laurel and Hardy were alive that they should re-inact the scene. To be honest beer induced or not I couldnt help but laugh at your story, jokes aside people seriously as this article has proven o not take risks and always evaluate the weather situation before you venture out.</font>
 

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<font color='#000000'>some one should tell the "hero" there is some steps at skipsea...

i know how he feels tho, holderness coast marks are murder when its been raining as the cliffs turn to liquid

macky
</font>
 
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