Living and going to school in Bathgate there is no getting away from it. NEDS ARE EVERYWHERE!!!
Perhaps one of the worst infected areas is Boghall. Yes Boghall. A pleasant sounding place? Don’t be fooled by it’s pleasant name. This place is a real s**tHOLE.
I’m convinced the water is infected in a CABIN FEVER style as on every corner of every street lurks groups of buckfast drinking, tracksuit wearing, bling-tastic, father of three, mother of four, 13/14 year old ned chav losers.
The Boghall “chippie” is a haven for these in-breeds where they like to terrorise Boghalls elderley residents and generally vandalise the local shops.
Another hotspot is “the Rabbie Hill”. This is where the neds go to light fires and I’ve seen this referred to as mini-beiruit. Neds as young as five have been caught petrol-bombing cars in this area. Their parents would argue that “they are having a little fun” and that they are “scallywags”. I can assure you however that these kids are nothing less than future prisoners and drug dealers(if not already).
Bathgate is an historical Scolttish town. Previously residents worked in mining but this industry has obviously dried up and now the occupation of choice is either working for the government (once fortnightly) or dealing drugs.
I previously had drug dealers two doors down from me on both sides. Cars were constantly parked outside for five minutes at a time and then drove away. Very inconspicuous.
Today however, is the highlight of the Bathgate social calendar. The Bathgate Gala Day. This brings the aristocracy from neighbouring towns, Armadale, Whitburn, and the like together with Bathgate residents where they join hands to watch the parade and then merrily skip away to enjoy the fairground.
In reality, it’s not wise to go out in Bathgate at night on the Gala Day unless you want stabbed or generally assaulted. “Battles” often take place between the aforementioned aristocracy and not a year goes by without violence.
The TWIG nightclub is full of w**kers on these nights and is definitely one to avoid unless you want infected with charvism. Certainly don’t venture into the “Steelyard” when the clubs close and the taxi rank is equally troublesome, where you are likely to get “chibbed” for looking at someone in a way that you shouldn’t.
‘Tis amusing to watch cold, frustrated, impatient, burberry wearing neds and their “women” (usually in short white skirts with an accent that sounds rougher than an elephants arsehole) waiting on a taxi. It’s like putting a fat kid in a cake shop and expecting him not to eat cake. There’s always behavious of an anti-social nature.
Anyway, back to the “ladies”. I once heard one of these nedettes descibed as having a face like a melted welly, which is an accurate description. Give them a bottle of cider (Spars own brand) and they’re anybody’s and everybody’s, as long as they can get a baby sitter for their six bastard kids.
I could go on and on about the ned culture in bonny Bathgate but unfortunately I’ve got an army of lacosters banging on my door screaming “…yor gettin it ya smort ersed basturt…..”