My home town of Lymington has a Facebook group called Lymington Rumour Control. This was set up to be the village pump, a place where wit and humour could flourish as local residents share useful and humourous news about our town.
Sadly, it degenerated into a playground for the terminally sanctimonious and the meeting ground for the staggeringly self-opinionated.
It was also the home of lazy sods asking the same questions like “can any one recommend a dentist/hairdresser/vet/tyre repair shop within 200 miles of Lymington “. There is a service on the Internet called Google you lazy bastards.
Lymington Rumour Control is now filled with tragic locals whinging on about parking, cyclist, litter, donkeys, parking, and puddles or pot holes…… and parking.
I began to hate the town I love.
It was like a never ending chorus of that Internet trope “what about the little children”; a self-righteous maelstrom of poorly spelled and inarticulate spleen-venting.
So I unsubscribed from the toxic hellstew that is Lymington Rumour Control and I now I love my town again.