Bourn market comprises of two long strips of market stalls, and is fantastic if you want:
- To dress like a chav on the cheap;
- To buy cheap and ineffective plastic tat;
- To buy miscellaneous electronic equipment that looks suspiciously like it hasn't been acquired in a fair and just manner;
- To buy lumps of dead animal from an unfortunately amplified pseudo-cockerney who neglects to wash his hands between handling dead cow and dead chicken;
- To buy a rug;
- To buy some flowers;
- To eat damp, lukewarm, floppy bits of carpet that have been mislabelled with 'Beefburger,' covered with lightly dampened bits of grated slug (those holding the ladle insist on referring to this as 'onion') and hidden between two halves of a bun that manage to be both damp and stale at the same time.
- To be walked into frequently by quite considerably overweight people;
- To experience Tonya and her mother having a needlessly loud and in-depth 'conversation' about a pair of neon baby leggings** whilst standing, respectively, next to your left and right ears.
- To have the more ignorant attendees blow huge gobfuls of fag smoke in your face almost every time you attempt to breathe in.
- To be run over and poked by wheelchairs and walking sticks*** (respectively).
- Gift ideas;
- Innovative products;
- Things you just can't buy anywhere else;
- Quirky keepsakes
- A good time,
* Not, as many people on twitter seem to spell it, 'Bourne'. Bourne is a guy in a series of books-made-into-films who can seriously deck people without even thinking about it. Could have done with him on my side today.
** Why? Why? Surely you're condemning your child to a life of asbos and 'surprise' pregancies before they've even had a chance to think about it for themselves?
*** In most cases these appear to have been brought along primarily as items of weaponary rather than perambulatory aids.