Cas-vegas, as it’s known locally and ironically. Home to the iconic chav-wear factory aka Burrbery… and so f**king bad even the chav’s and chav-wannabes are gagging to leave !
This place started dying in 1980′s, after the Tories shut down the mines, and anyone not on the dole left. By this point the town looks like a cross between a level from Fallout and Little Britain. [I blame the heavy metals pollution in the water]. What we have here is mutants in bad shell suits and baseball caps. Most of them would have to go several evolutionary levels to be called chav’s elsewhere. Nuking the place would actually improve it.
Chief past times here amoung the younger yobs seem to be spray-paint huffing, drunken violence and hanging around smoking and looking scummy…among the older, slightly less devolved chav’s it’s going out getting pissed at one of the grotty clubs [or all 3 of them] and shagging in shop doorways… often with members of the opposite sex, but dogs will do in a pinch judging by the results 9 months later. Slightly better off chav’s usually invade Wakefield for these pastimes, descending on the place like a track-suited bling-encrusted mongol horde every saturday night.
Granny chav’s are well suplied with bingo halls and slot machine arcades, hence the stupid nick name.
One of the odder points is that there don’t seem to be any working aged chav’s here… most of them having pissed off where there are some jobs and left their spawn with the grannies. Castleford could be said to export chav’s to the rest of the country.. although infect would be a better word. Sorry about that…
Suffice it to say, if someone wanted to give Yorkshire an enema, this is where they’d stick the tube.