The last description i wrote was when i was a bit wasted before going out, so i rewrote it, only just got round to putting it up tho
Lancaster – once a thriving city, famous for its cotton mills, and the wealth created by its georgian port. The remnance of its prosperious past can still be seen in the elegant buildings present around the central regions of the city.
Lancaster today however, presents a different picture, as the ever growing epidemic of scum now demean its reputation, and truly give it the national status of a ‘Chav Town’.
From the surrounding council estates, this pond-life spills on to the city streets, night and day, to annoy and pester law abiding citizens. Displaying their allegiance to all things common, they bear the crests of such quality brands as Kappa, Diadora, Burberry, and for the eccentric chav, Lacoste.
In the city centre, Lancaster has all the usual discount shops: Poundworld, Pound Fever, Home Bargains, Halfpriceorless, Busy Bee, etc, where all the chav families do their weekly shopping. On a normal weekday, you can’t miss all the tacky teenage single mums, caked to the teeth in cheap makeup, pushing around their monkey-like babies, just after collecting their giro + child support. Perhaps they’ll bump into a male chav, who’s just nicked a load of stuff from HMV to feed his smack habit, then end up getting jiggy in the same spot that kid no.1 was conceived (behind Kwik Save, in case you were wondering).
Lancaster also boasts not 1, but 2 Allsports, + a variety of other obligatory sport shops (JJB, Premier Sports,etc). Like we need 2 f**king Allsports!!
The focal point is the square outside HMV, and on an average day has an array of smackheads and other scum, who manage to spend the entire day congregated around the fountain really bringing the place down and making it look ugly. And what a good job they do of it. Of course this is the only job these penniless dole-scroungers do. Did I mention they sit around a fountain??? Well, you’ll never guess what. You can regularly walk into town and find that some joker has emptied a bottle of washing up liquid into the fountain, causing it to foam up and cover the place in clouds of the stuff. These f**kers never run out of ideas do they. Another place these clowns hang around is, yes you’ve guessed it, outside McDonalds, and on a busy Saturday afternoon, they can regularly be seen kicking a football around.
Lancaster attracts a large number of tourists during the summer (due to its history). God knows what they think when they see this filth parading around the streets like a bunch of f**king animals. And what’s with the swagger, and trying to look hard with your socks pulled over your cheap trackies!?… f**k off!!!
Evenings are no better, as some of the older chavs descend into town. The lads have their light coloured shirts and gelled hair. Note to bouncers: They only wear this stuff so they can get into your clubs, they’re still gonna glass someone when they get inside. The ‘women’ (I use the term lightly), are dressed in disgusting skimpy clothes that are around 4 sizes too small for them, and wear huge hooped earrings, whilst caked in fake tan. Walking down the streets on a Friday or Saturday evening, you’ll hear them screaming and shouting in the most annoying and ear piercing way as they make their way to the chav hangouts like Ruxtons and Spooners. Lancaster never gets through a weekend without at least several incidents after closing time; chavs fighting chavs, chavs attacking ‘humans’, chavs attacking the police. There is a simple solution to this problem, hang the lot of them. They could even set up the gallows round the back of the castle where they used to be.
Just across the river from the city centre, is the Ryelands Estate, which really is the arsehole of Lancaster, and home to some of the most inbred low-life dog s**t on this planet. The estate gained national notoriety some years ago, after appearing on ITV’s ‘Neighbours from Hell’, due to years of the residents collective terrorism of an asian shopkeeper. Wow, you f**kers really have something to be proud about now, don’t you. Amazingly, some inhabitants of this stagnant s**thole estate like to boast about where they live; “Don’t f**k with me, I come from f**king Ryelands”. Wow, that sentence only had 2 f**ks in it.
And so we come to the end of the tour, please wipe your feet on the way out.