“Wind Street. Swansea. Put it in the Louvre.”
Discussion
This isn't really my thing so I mean the royal "we" but as a nation why do we have such a f
ked up relationship with alcohol?
Photo of Swansea police arresting drunk man likened to Renaissance art
ked up relationship with alcohol?Photo of Swansea police arresting drunk man likened to Renaissance art
bhstewie said:
hstewie said: This isn't really my thing so I mean the royal "we" but as a nation why do we have such a fked up relationship with alcohol?
Photo of Swansea police arresting drunk man likened to Renaissance art
The picture even has a rainbow. Stunning. .ked up relationship with alcohol?Photo of Swansea police arresting drunk man likened to Renaissance art
I call it "Inebriate's Waltz in Technicolor Takedown"...
Our scene unfolds on the pixelated pavement of a digital dream—or perhaps, a neon nightmare. Here, we witness the glowing outlines of Her Majesty's finest in a tableau vivant, "The Great British Tussle." In radiant raiment of electrified purples and blues, with vivacious reds and yellows, the constabulary engage in a contemporary dance, and the 'Inebriate's Waltz.'
At the center lies our spirited protagonist, almost completely hidden he represents a modern-day Bacchus, sprawled in a dramatic repose, his silhouette a blurry beacon of weekend revelry gone awry. His limbs akimbo, a symphony of sloshed somnolence, as if conducting an orchestra of chaos with every flailing gesture. At the side of Brucchus is Bruvvus, the ebullient modern day deity of camaraderie and kinship.
Around him, the neon knights of justice assert their fluorescent force, a juxtaposition of control against the wild color of wayward whimsy. Each officer, an artist, their high-visibility vests now canvases of light, painting order in strokes of illumination.
Onlookers, a ghostly audience etched in sharp lines of lime and lemon, their faces hidden behind masks of shadow, are caught mid-gasp and giggle, bearing witness to the spectacle of Saturday night spirits subdued.
This piece, a vibrant vignette, captures the spirit of nocturnal British escapades—where every character, willing or not, plays their part in the grand exhibition of urban nightlife, illuminated not by stars, but by the pulsating beat of neon artistry.
Yup, I'm a bit bored tonight.
Our scene unfolds on the pixelated pavement of a digital dream—or perhaps, a neon nightmare. Here, we witness the glowing outlines of Her Majesty's finest in a tableau vivant, "The Great British Tussle." In radiant raiment of electrified purples and blues, with vivacious reds and yellows, the constabulary engage in a contemporary dance, and the 'Inebriate's Waltz.'
At the center lies our spirited protagonist, almost completely hidden he represents a modern-day Bacchus, sprawled in a dramatic repose, his silhouette a blurry beacon of weekend revelry gone awry. His limbs akimbo, a symphony of sloshed somnolence, as if conducting an orchestra of chaos with every flailing gesture. At the side of Brucchus is Bruvvus, the ebullient modern day deity of camaraderie and kinship.
Around him, the neon knights of justice assert their fluorescent force, a juxtaposition of control against the wild color of wayward whimsy. Each officer, an artist, their high-visibility vests now canvases of light, painting order in strokes of illumination.
Onlookers, a ghostly audience etched in sharp lines of lime and lemon, their faces hidden behind masks of shadow, are caught mid-gasp and giggle, bearing witness to the spectacle of Saturday night spirits subdued.
This piece, a vibrant vignette, captures the spirit of nocturnal British escapades—where every character, willing or not, plays their part in the grand exhibition of urban nightlife, illuminated not by stars, but by the pulsating beat of neon artistry.
Yup, I'm a bit bored tonight.
Do we need a lesson on how to pronounce "Wind" St?
It's been a special place for the last 20 years or so, since it became the "cafe" quarter and following the demise of the nearby Mumbles Mile and Kingsway nightclubs. It's about a third of a mile of concentrated bars, pubs, clubs and takeaways.
It's amazing.
It's been a special place for the last 20 years or so, since it became the "cafe" quarter and following the demise of the nearby Mumbles Mile and Kingsway nightclubs. It's about a third of a mile of concentrated bars, pubs, clubs and takeaways.
It's amazing.
98elise said:
JulianHJ said:
Common occurrence. Here's another example.
That's what I first thought of. A brilliant photo.
bhstewie said:
hstewie said: This isn't really my thing so I mean the royal "we" but as a nation why do we have such a fked up relationship with alcohol?
Photo of Swansea police arresting drunk man likened to Renaissance art
As a nation we are obsessed with the stuff, and I find the high levels of apparently acceptable alcoholism amongst the more wealthy professional class even more strange. A couple of glasses of red at lunch time, a bottle with dinner, cases of the stuff in the garage etc..ked up relationship with alcohol?Photo of Swansea police arresting drunk man likened to Renaissance art
Not a drinker myself, but tell anyone that and they look at you like you have two heads. All very odd.
SWoll said:
As a nation we are obsessed with the stuff, and I find the high levels of apparently acceptable alcoholism amongst the more wealthy professional class even more strange. A couple of glasses of red at lunch time, a bottle with dinner, cases of the stuff in the garage etc..
Not a drinker myself, but tell anyone that and they look at you like you have two heads. All very odd.
Hopefully an insulated garage.Not a drinker myself, but tell anyone that and they look at you like you have two heads. All very odd.
SWoll said:
As a nation we are obsessed with the stuff, and I find the high levels of apparently acceptable alcoholism amongst the more wealthy professional class even more strange. A couple of glasses of red at lunch time, a bottle with dinner, cases of the stuff in the garage etc..
Not a drinker myself, but tell anyone that and they look at you like you have two heads. All very odd.
This. Not a drinker myself, but tell anyone that and they look at you like you have two heads. All very odd.
dvs_dave said:
Alas, it’s nothing new for British culture. Countless depictions from centuries past of exactly the same shenanigans. We have always been, and always will be a nation of drunkards
The moral panic has always been about poor drunks, or maybe working class ones, while the middle and upper classes got tanked up on sherry and laudanum. That's allowed, or at least not demonised by the tabloid press.Gassing Station | News, Politics & Economics | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff