Waterford

Anyone who has had the misfortune to be domiciled here deserves sympathetic counselling.

Its windswept, rain sodden location is erroneously referred to by the tourist board as the ‘Sunny South East’.

A quick sojourn by the grim river, vainly attempting to stop your umbrella from inverting, soon puts paid to this idea.

I can only assume that it is due to the unending sore throats brought on by the inclement conditions that the natives, male and female, speak alike in unfathomable, gravel-like tones.

The ‘Crystal City’ is noted for little save its overpriced cut glass. Restaurants are noticeable only by their absence and the city’s Hells Angels chapter is just waiting in the window of the pub for you to rub against, or horror, overturn their chrome wife.

‘work-shy’