As the UK's number one Grockle catcher, we can't but help swoon over you Devon, me luvver. You make London look northern and Bristol look like the stonking big smoke. Your homely scent of simmering cow pats and clatter of joy-ridden tractors are like the jewels in your clotted cream coated crown.
You are officially the headquarters for us coider-swigging bumpkins; the number one place to do it under a palm tree. Or indeed, on the Moor parked upon a giant chair.
You are officially the headquarters for us coider-swigging bumpkins; the number one place to do it under a palm tree. Or indeed, on the Moor parked upon a giant chair.
It's little wonder you rhyme with Heaven. FAQing delightful Devon.
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