They’ve got that great juxapotioned couple in love, other couple in the physical manifestation of ill-temper. A perfect rustic scene were it not for the 60 ft fucking pilon towering over St Quaintsbury.
Scott "Limp wrists" Chisholm dosen’t just breathe, buy ties and grow a mustashe. Scott "You look like you need a shit" Chisholm makes the news, by reading it out loud with his mouth and occasionally committing some low level fraud.
HORSE: I'll eat this grass kid, but as soon as you turn round, I'm gonna get that hat of yours. And y'know what kid, you're gonna need to buy a new coloured skirt the next time you see that again.
...And on your left a withered old tree battered by storms, lapped by waves, mentioned by people like me on tours like these. Helpless, waiting for it's pre-mature and inevitable death. Next kids it's Mickey's Mouse's Golden Ring hole...
I can't imagine anyone getting this through the post and not thinking, the person who sent this, might not like me that much. Not even the lucky clover in a partly frozen hell will stop you from falling in that jagged icey river. Christmas greetings.
Due to the perhaps poor reproduction processes and almost childlike colouring in the people in the boat and for that matter almost every else has a sort of abstract painting look, which is pretty great.