Welcome to Morpeth, it's shite

For those of you who aren't familiar with the north east of our septic isle, allow me to introduce you to Morpeth, north of Newcastle, just off the A1 at around the point where it degrades from dual carriageway to rutted track.

Morpeth has the distinction of being a place where noting ever happens what so ever - which gives rise to the phrase "duller than morpeth on a wet Sunday afternoon"; however it's notable points include the little gem that 57% of those who live there are employed by the state; its parent authority has pissed lots of taxes up the wall in Icelandic savings accounts, and it can't even get paying out council tax benefit right. Morpeth council therefore has enough time on its hands and enough bodies to now start policing the sale of parsnips by yokels.

Officials from Northumberland County Council told him the parsnips, spinach and leeks grown in his walled garden should be sold by metric weight, following EU rules, and sent him four pages of guidance.

So Morpeth council has solved all it's problems (highlights of the last audit commission reports include: - Strategic Housing Services - Poor; Housing maintenance - Poor; information technology, receptoin & telephone services - Poor) and can now turn its attention to ensuring vegetable honesty boxes comply with the latest rules as handed down by the morons in Brussels. The fuckers are so backward they can't even build a basic web page for complaints and I'm not spending the price of a stamp to tell them they're a bunch of tossers.

Country. Dogs. Gone. To

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Update:
I am informed that the metric morons were in fact from Northumberland Council. This is true, and I can't read the quotes I use properly, but then I am a northerner.

Morpeth however remains shite