Last Sunday, our usual triumvirate of mis-shapen walkers (well, in truth, only two are mis-shapen) had a stroll around the deeper parts of Suffolkshire, at times clambering well above the snow line and bagging at least two Suffolk Tops. Just after leaving the wonderful pub at Cowlinge Lord Elpus happened to bump into the following startling red obelisk:
(It had been vertical prior to him colliding with it in his beerhappygrinningattheworld state)
Inside there was a note:
So, when you clamber inside, having broken your aging pelvis on the red obelisk after colliding with it after leaving the hostelry and find that they have removed the phone apparatus from within due to lack of use, you are given a phone number to call to find the nearest alternate payphone.
Thoughtful bastards, BT.