Couple of corrections/updates. Nipper Smith was called Nipper as a kid because he was a was a kid. It had nothing to do with knives. The riverside developments of the old warehouses look great; and the Marshall’s Yard retail complex has been a huge success.

On the whole, things are looking up for Gainsborough. The Grammar School is still consistently one of the top performing schools in the country but the town unfortunately suffers from brain drain as the majority of grammar school leavers leave the town to seek their fortunes elsewhere.

Which leaves the town largely in the care and under the influence of the past pupils of the Trent Valley Academy, where only 41% of attendees leave with 5+ GCSEs at grade A-C. It’s fair to suggest that there are some fairly serious aspiration and peer-related problems at the school, and things won’t get any better until these kids horizons are broadened.

Unfortunately this is an unrealistic and thankless task, as we are now on generations three and four of long-term unemployed. Invariably it’s these halfwits that end up bringing a town down by engaging in chavvy behaviour.

Totally agree with the original poster on everything.

I constantly ask myself how the hell I survived this cesspool of a town. Fortunately for me, I managed to escape to Lincoln a couple of years ago. – although this is now chav-infested in its own right.

I seriously think Morrisey must have been visiting Gainsborough when he was inspired to write ‘William it was really nothing’ especially the lyrics ‘ the rain falls down on a humdrum town, this town will drag you down’ its not the town itself that will drag you down Moz its the total Chavwanks that live here after which they will put the boot in you 20 times before relieving you of your wallet, mobile phone and any other thing they can sell for drug money/white lightning.

A few years ago I had the idea that I would find a nice girl from the town to settle down with. After a few evenings out in Gainsborough (from henceforth referred to as Chavsborough) I soon realised that there are no nice girls in the town. They all left the first opportunity that came their way – and can you blame them. Whats left are bingo winged, saggy bellied, saggy titted, saggy arsed, shit Argos clown necklace wearing, tattooed, alcoholic Vicky Pollard clones. That say ‘sumthink’ instead of something, and ’nuffink’ instead of nothing. As you can probably guess, I gave looking for a nice local girl as there aren’t any. Oh and the ones that did stick around are usually on the arm of some neanderthal meathead or one of his cronies.

To the local multistorey car park where you can get mugged or seven shades beaten out of you for just being there. Lords pub which is actually more like a corridor than a pub – full of scumsucking pond life. Or the jewel in the sovereign encrusted crown White Hart hotel, where you can expect to get glassed or bottled and a trip to A and E for some stitches.

For the town to be a decent place to live, you would have to execute about 90% of the population.

Good riddance Chavsborough and all the fooking wasters within.