About 4.3 minutes ago, I found out that I'm going to Scunthorpe.
Well shit on my chest and call me Clayton.
The Dove and I have been jabbering on about Scunthorpe for the duration of us being friends. Which is a long time.
And now, as luck would have it, I'll actuallybe going there. For work.
I bitch sometimes that mine is the least glamorous job on my team. Well this clearly proves me wrong - I mean why go to Cannes when you can go to Scunthorpe?
(No seriously, half my team goes to Cannes.)
It's a town in The North. Filled with steelworkers and the types of people who like wear polyurethane while drinking in a basement listening to donk. When you search for pictures of Scunthorpe, the top hits are logos of mining unions.
Put it this way, it's not a tourist destination.
It's juxtaposed between a place called Grimsby and another notorious town call
So if the sound of a name is anything to go by, don't book a holiday here.
Scunthorpe, however, is very special to me and The Dove though.
When something's as boring as fuck, we say "It was as boring as Scunthorpe on a wet day when the pub is closed."
It's just our thing. I've referenced Scunthorpe about 10 times since having this blog, and now I actually have to fucking go there.
It's just for this very reason I am so excited to be going to this amazing little shit hole Oop Norff.
Just a pity the Dove can't be there and have a pint in the pub with me while it's raining.
PS: The Dove: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
China. Fuck. I can't believe it.
Why in the name of balls are you going there?