Bradford, West Yorkshire. Population 501,700 (the vast majority of which are chavs, Asian drug dealers and partially disabled alcoholics on benefits). Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be enough words available in the English language to emphasise what a complete and utter f**king s**t-hole this place really is.
Apparently Bradford is the sixth largest city in the country, in terms of population, and was nominated for European City of Culture in 2008. Located just a few miles south of Ilkley Moor and the Bronte country, with its apparently diverse culture and industrial heritage, outsiders may be forgiven for thinking that Bradford might be a nice or interesting place to visit. “Why don’t we pop over to Bradford and have a trip to the National Media Museum Marjory?”
Don’t f**king bother!
Bradford is literally hell on earth. The city centre resembles a squalid cess pit, full of monstrous partially demolished 60′s concrete office blocks, Pound shops, amusement arcades, prostitutes, heroin addicts, Eastern European car-jackers, Asian drug dealers, pre-pubescent mums and mad alcoholic tramps having arguments with themselves. It needs to be blown off the face of the earth. There is NOTHING good about Bradford.
Dare to use public transport around the Interchange and you will inevitably get stabbed. Venture a mile or so out of the city centre (if you dare) and things don’t improve one bit. The area of Manningham (famous for some of Britains worst ever riots in 2001) resembles a third-world war zone. Listerhills, with it’s derelict crumbling mills and huge selection of emaciated, smack riddled whores wandering the streets, even in broad day light, is literally a no-go area, whilst Great Horton, Frizinghall and Thornbury offer nothing but row upon row of run-down or boarded up terraced houses, where you’ll struggle to find anybody at all who speaks English. Venture a couple miles North to Shipley and be confronted by a population of uber-chavs who reside on notorious council estates such as Windhill and West Royd. These cider swilling, wizz snorting, tracksuit wearing monsters are truly dangerous people, who will no doubt “kick t’ f**k out o’ yer” if you even glance in their direction. Set eyes on the architectural ogre of Shipley clock tower and you will no doubt require some sort of counselling.
Bradford: A City of Extremes. Extreme violent crime, sexual crime, murder, burglary, drug abuse, unemployment etc. etc.
Apparently Bradford Council is now slashing its workforce by 20% to enable funding of the construction of a huge pond in the city centre. Great work! This will no doubt be full of supermarket trolleys, traffic cones, syringes and dead pissed-up tramps within minutes of opening.
As if Bradford’s reputation hadn’t been tarnished enough over the last 30 years, it now boasts another famous serial killer to bolster further it’s image as the true infected arse-hole of the UK.