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  We are each our own Gulliver. Beached upon a coast of a land we can know little of. [I could have made merry with the word 'little' there, but missed it...oh well on we trudge...]. Some of us discover that we are tied down by pointless politicians, aided and abetted by taxmen and wishy-washy judges. Others amongst us live to regret the initial surge of excitement and adventure, and the thrill of the hunt. That was all part and parcel of illicit drug taking. Teens love to make choices and because they are teens many of their choices seem ill-advised in retrospect, but only few that stigmatise their future lives:drugs and perhaps the being on a railway embankment in company with somebody that carries an air riffle.
  I'll bet, that in much the same way, the Market Square sees more of the cigarette smoker than it once did, much more too of the groupings of the remnants of that habit, that if viewed forensically would seem like certain evidence of mass murder had they been shell-casings and not fag-ends.

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