It would be easy to say that Helminthdale is a shining pearl of a town nestling in the foothills of the Pennines. It would be a damned lie, but easy enough. It's actually a downcast pile of bricks cowering damply as the last clouds of the Atlantic empty their bowels before going to visit Yorkshire. In short, it's a right bog hole.
You might like to say hello to the nice people.
Hello nice people. And the nasty ones. In fact, especially the nasty ones (if you're going to be that unpleasant I'm not going to go out of my way to upset you!)
Would you like to say a few things about yourself?
No.
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