between the devil and the deep blue sea
Or, in this case, the deep brown. Poor old Boscastle (the Cornish town reduced to a muddy rubble by a freak flood. This amused me, though:
By the harbour, the witchcraft museum stood firm while a Christian gift shop lay in ruins. Gallows humour was the order of the day. “The devil looks after its own,” joked one villager.
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