Ach ernsthaft? Ist ja witzig, ich wohne praktisch gegenüber davon und habe nichts von dem Abriss mitbekommen. :lol:
Der Name alleine klingt ja schon nach totaler Zerstörung :lol:Der hässliche Flachbau an der Einmündung des Sylter Bogens zur Eckernförder Straße ist weitgehend abgerissen.
Dort war vor wenigen Jahren eine Filiale von Kik, danach verfiel das Gebäude.
Der Name und das Motto der Abbruchfirma sind recht passend.
Wie man schon aus dem "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" lernt, sollte man genau hinsehen, wenn vor dem Fenster ein großes, gelbes Objekt steht.Ach ernsthaft? Ist ja witzig, ich wohne praktisch gegenüber davon und habe nichts von dem Abriss mitbekommen. :lol:
Die Raumschiffe der Vogonischen Bauflotte waren auch gelb.Chapter One
The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village. It stood on its own and looked over a broad spread of West Country farmland. Not a remarkable house by any means --- it was about thirty years old, squattish, squarish, made of brick, and had four windows set in the front of a size and proportion which more or less exactly failed to please the eye.
The only person for whom the house was in any way special was Arthur Dent, and that was only because it happened to be the one he lived in.
The bulldozer outside the kitchen window was quite a big one.
He stared at it.
"Yellow,'' he thought and stomped off back to his bedroom to get dressed.
Passing the bathroom he stopped to drink a large glass of water, and another. He began to suspect that he was hung over. Why was he hung over? Had he been drinking the night before? He supposed that he must have been. He caught a glint in the shaving mirror. ``Yellow,'' he thought and stomped on to the bedroom.
He stood and thought. The pub, he thought. Oh dear, the pub. He vaguely remembered being angry, angry about something that seemed important. He'd been telling people about it, telling people about it at great length, he rather suspected: his clearest visual recollection was of glazed looks on other people's faces. Something about a new bypass he had just found out about. It had been in the pipeline for months only no one seemed to have known about it. Ridiculous. He took a swig of water. It would sort itself out, he'd decided, no one wanted a bypass, the council didn't have a leg to stand on. It would sort itself out.
God what a terrible hangover it had earned him though. He looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror. He stuck out his tongue. "Yellow,'' he thought. The word yellow wandered through his mind in search of something to connect with.
Fifteen seconds later he was out of the house and lying in front of a big yellow bulldozer that was advancing up his garden path.