Scratchy (and Other) Bottoms in Dorset

The “something much naughtier” is paywalled at the very bottom of this post, just in case anyone from the Lulworth Estate is a free subscriber. Because there is no way they would pay riffraff like me to read my work.

I’m always amused by the offence taken by a vocal minority of Americans (I’ve not had a single complaint by any other nationality) to the bottoms in the second book in the FAB (Friends Against Bullying) Club trilogy.

Scroll down quickly if you do not like to see cartoon bums!

Being kids, this was the password to the FAB Clubhouse. The 8-12 target demographic for the book love it!

You can live in a country that terrifies children with metal detectors in schools and training to prepare for possible shooters, but you cannot show them a cartoon of a bare bum.

I can’t imagine those folk could stomach a trip around Dorset, seeing the Cerne Abbas Giant, Shitterton and Scratchy Bottom.

The impact of tourism on my local beach is stark.

Tourists used to be put off by the big walk down and up, but now they arrive en masse. Consequently, there is much more litter—cans, sweet and crisp packets and so many plastic bottles.

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Unlike in the past, when no one would dream of staying on the beach, it’s now common for me to encounter a tent. Are they the ones leaving the litter? Because if they were the types to leave a place better than they found it, they’d set up their tent late and pack up early.

But I’m just jealous. I wouldn’t have the nerve to camp on a beach owned by the Lulworth Estate, who charge a fortune for parking, camping, filming and anything else they can think of on the land that their ancestors stole from us commoners (on this topic, I highly recommend The Book of Trespass).

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There’s a path to the beach that I’ve taken since I was a kid, that goes through Scratchy Bottom.

Any steps down to the beach were eroded a long time ago, but we always used to go down there anyway. I don’t know whether the estate has fenced it off because it’s dangerous, or because they don’t want to maintain it— probably the latter. They must make a shed load of dosh from tourists, but they don’t like spending it on the infrastructure needed for all those people who come to visit this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Anyway, I don’t mind the fence and the sign that the path is closed, but I do mind the barbed wire they use in the fencing. If people want to go down there at their own risk, why not let them?

And why not have a litter bin by the fence so that tourists don’t throw their litter over the fence for people like me to pick up?

Rant over.

(Paid subscribers, scroll to the very end)

Thank you for being one of the good humans.

Alex

P.S. Molly has limited scope to be naughty at the moment, because she’s being carried around a lot (and on a lead when she isn’t). But I don’t carry her indoors, so she used that as an opportunity to be very, very naughty this week.

We went over to Portland to join my sister and her dog. Oreo is considerably bigger than Molly, and Molly can’t terrorise her the way she terrorises smaller dogs. So when Oreo barked at her before she came in, and asserted the fact that it was her house (fair enough), what did Molly do?

Well, I didn’t witness the act, but I am almost 100% sure that the little puddle of pee right next to Oreo’s food bowl was Molly putting her in her place.

Bad dog.

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Right, now to the secret part…