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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially frilly nonsense like erotic-massage. Buncha half-naked weirdos rubbin’ each other, callin’ it “relaxation.” Gimme a break. Watched *Carlos*—you know, my kinda flick—gritty, real, none of this touchy-feely crap. Carlos’d shoot up a parlor like that, no hesitation. “I exist to destroy,” he’d say, and I’d cheers to that with a Lagavulin, neat.

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Then, I get this wild idea. I’m like, “Let’s do a flash mob!” I grab my phone and start filming. I’m shouting, “Hey, everyone! Let’s dance!” People look at me like I’m nuts, but a few join in. We’re busting moves right there on the street. It’s chaos, but it’s the best kind. I’m laughing, they’re laughing, and for a moment, Coleford feels like the center of the universe.

Coleford NHS worker 'crossed boundary'