On the path down to the beach, I find a bent and scorched spoon alongside a used hypodermic needle with a brown substance coating its surfaces. No prize for guessing what this is and it explains the number of discarded BIC lighters I’ve seen lying around the seafront recently.

The idea of people shooting heroin a hundred yards from my peaceful seaside home disturbs me. It’s bad enough that Government are using the local area as a dumping ground or should I say ‘Processing Centre’ for refugees, leaving them marooned with little else to do than claim benefit and drive around in uninsured cars but hard drugs and the social problems that accompany them are another matter, the ugly face of 21st century Britain in all its dirty glory.

You can run but you can’t hide anymore, short of moving to the Falkland Islands perhaps? The place is falling apart and Government has few answers beyond plugging the gaps with higher taxes and more paperwork and statistics that have lost all credibility with many of its citizens.

All the ‘Big Conversations” in the world can’t seem to lead to improvements just higher Poll Tax, more safety cameras and highly-paid non-jobs in the Guardian public sector appointments pages.


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