Signs of the Times 6

Well, you could knock 7 shades of eight bells of hell outta me. There we were in the heart of the Cotswolds in Chipping Campden (not to be confused with Camden, Mick), compelled to register the number of signs telling us wot not to do. So, I supped my north Cotswold ale and contemplated the fact that the management would take no responsibility for anything that happened to me or my belongings while I sat there not consuming anything that hadn’t been bought on the premises. Most importantly — NO PICNICS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!