"Where are you going?"asked Uncle Mort. "Ithought I'd go down South," said Carter Brandon. Uncle Mort blew his nose on the fringe of his white silk muffler. Delicately he picked the damp fluff off the palms of his navy blue mittens. He scratched the deep drooding recesses of his crutch. Then he said; "can you buy cough mixture down there?" "I think so". "Right then, lad. On that proviso I'll come with you." And so, for...
two hysterical weeks, these famouus sons of the north find a fruitful new patch of Tinniswood country in which to air their views.
Soho and Hampton Court, southern hotels and southern pubs, southern beer and southern food - that a=caustic one- nation philosopher, Uncle Mort, has stomach for them all.
"Bloody Southeners!" Prejudiced? Uncle Mort?
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