131 THE GREAT BRITISH INNUENDO TOUR: A JOURNEY THROUGH BRITAIN'S MOST AWKWARDLY NAMED PLACES...

I may have stumbled across our next road trip. Hot on the heels of our plan to race across Britain to prove the Abarths are quicker than God comes a foulmouthed tour from the south coast of England to the beautiful isle of Orkney. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin...

Starting in the delightfully named Dorset hamlet of Shitterton (yes, really, and they had to bolt their village sign to a massive boulder because people kept stealing it), we're embarking on a journey that would make Carry On film writers proud.

It is a short hop to our first stop, Ass Hill, because how could we not? It's a steady climb up the bottom of Britain, where locals probably tired of 'bum' jokes before the Victorian era. The view is lovely, though I suspect most visitors are too busy taking selfies with the sign to notice.

Onward to Fingeringhoe in Essex, a village that sounds like an Edwardian euphemism and causes satnavs to blush. The local council must have a sense of humour - they've paired with their twin town of Grippingnob. (I made that last bit up, but admit you believed it for a second.)

Through the charming Cock Alley we go, where the residents have presumably heard every possible chicken joke known to humanity. The local roosters are said to strut around with particular pride here.

Next up is Penistone in South Yorkshire, where the tourist board probably has the world's most challenging marketing job. "Come to Penistone, it's not what you think!" The town gets its name from 'farmstead on the River Don', but where's the fun in that explanation?

Cockermouth in Cumbria follows, the birthplace of William Wordsworth, who somehow wrote countless poems without a single entendre about his hometown. The locals pronounce it with such dignity that you almost forget you're sniggering internally.

Dick Place in Edinburgh provides a brief respite, being possibly the most expensive street to have such an unfortunate name. The estate agents probably call it 'Richard Place' in their listings.

We eventually reach Cock Bridge in Aberdeenshire, where the road signs must be a constant source of amusement for passing tourists.

From here, it's just a short ferry ride to our final destination: Twatt in Orkney - a place where the local tourism industry consists entirely of selling novelty t-shirts.

If you drive straight through, the journey takes about 15 hours, but why would you? Each stop is an opportunity to take a photo that will make your granny say, "Really?".

Remember, these names all have innocent historical origins, usually from Old English or Norse words that meant something completely different. But it's much more fun to pretend they don't.

The real heroes of this journey are the local post office workers, taxi dispatchers, and pizza delivery drivers who handle addresses in these places with straight faces, day in and day out.

And if anyone asks why you're doing this road trip, tell them it's for "historical research." It sounds much better than "because we're all twelve years old inside."