Okay, my fetish for crazy foreign signs is pretty well-documented on the Migrant Blogger. Well, it didn’t take long for me to find a handful in Scotland. Seriously. My first destination (after the hotel) was a small farmers’ market in Edinburgh. I found more than enough to keep me busy there, but as I walked around town a bit, I learned that this fine city is absolute gold when it comes to crazy street signs.
The farmers’ market was priceless. The signs posted make it absolutely impossible for a man of any age to be mature … and it’s not our fault. If you are selling something, you should be reasonably aware of how your signage could be interpreted. Sometimes, as you’ll see in a sec, there’s simply no room for interpretation.
WTF? Right? Thisselcockrig? Cock? And the name, Jock Bolton, definitely sounds like it belongs in porn. Let’s be realistic, here. This is not my fault.
Clearly, this guy is a friend of Jock’s. Donald MacPherson must be incredibly proud, you know, being well hung and tender. Sorry about the photographic incompetence; Edinburgh is fucking windy.
Seriously, wtf can I say about this? “Alien Technology” applied to a trailer? White trash in space? This is absurd.
Hungry? Well, not for long!
They actually pull the meat right off this little guy to make sandwiches … while you watch!
Let Scottish taxis be a model for print media companies in the United States. Hunt for fucking profits. It matters.
And, my favorite so far …