Place names

[Mordac]

One way of making sure nobody nicks the sign

[Archangel]

Reminds me of someone I know of who had a personal number plate KER.... On more than one occasion I believe some one came along with a permanent marker and wrote the letters WAN in front of the KER!

I used to work near foo foo Lamar’s club in Manchester. He had a rolls with the number plate FOO1, a colleague used to regularly use black masking tape to make it FOOL, simpler times.

[vetran]

[courtg9000]

Reminds me of someone I know of who had a personal number plate KER.... On more than one occasion I believe some one came along with a permanent marker and wrote the letters WAN in front of the KER!

[vetran]

Ah Lickey end..

[xoggoth]

Live quite near the river Uck which is signposted on the road. Amazing I've never seen an added F.

[SueEllen]

The wonder of UK place names.

Just stop nicking the road signs


https://www.theguardian.com/science/...thy-placenames

On the road to Twatt, a message arrives from a resident there. Am I making the pilgrimage up through Scotland to this hamlet on the island of Orkney only to admire its notorious, unwittingly rude road sign? If so, don’t bother. “Our council was so frustrated by that sign being stolen, they have now not replaced it,” says Judith Glue, who runs a gift shop selling pictures of the old Twatt sign to tourists who might otherwise leave the region disappointed. Grateful for her warning, I thank Glue and read over a list I’ve made of those other dwelling places in the UK that through some quirk of linguistic evolution have found themselves with fantastic, filthy-sounding names. At Cock Bridge, in Aberdeenshire, they have the same trouble as in Twatt. “Our sign is constantly being pinched,” says Geva Blackett, a councillor for the region. “People have been taking them away as mementoes. Why do they do it?”
It’s an early lesson from my road trip around these towns, villages, parishes, hamlets and farms, many of which are irresistible to Insta-tourists and sign thieves – always phone ahead. One autumn day, I drive for over an hour to visit an Ass Hill in Dorset, just to find it’s an unremarkable and uninhabited lane between hedgerows. The village of tulipterton, about 20 miles away, is much more interesting. Residents here are quite accustomed to hobby-horse types like me wandering through to have a nose around and ask questions. Most are proud, even defiant about this startling name of theirs, which derives from the fact that about 1,000 years ago the site was an open sewer.