To sum it up in some words, Ashford is a ******** **** filled ***** town. They swarm to mcdonalds on a saturday and sit on the railings whistling at innocent passer bys who cant escape the disgusting spottyness of their faces. Saturday is possibly the worst day to visit Ashford as it is “market day bruv” and the ***** all go there to buy the £2.50 fake burberry bags, hats, jumpers, shirts, socks, hair bands, and anything else the retards have managed to make out of it. If u hapen to be unfortunate enough to visit ashford, please feel free to hand out deodrant to the *****, maybe even a bottle of clearasil as the poor creatures havent yet discoverd the wonders of modern technology and are clearly stuck in the stone age when it comes to personal hygene. When walking about ashford and you stumble across an obese ****, be aware that they dont speak english and they may call you ‘baay’ if you are a girl ‘bruv’ if you are a boy or even ‘moosh’ if they consider you to be one of their friends. :WARNING: keep all personal belongings or valubles safely in a bag. THEY WILL BE NICKED IF OTHERWISE.

Well well, I have lived in this town for 23years, it used to be a quiet adillic small town just with the odd gypsys, but now housing development have taken over and now this quiet humble town is almost at city status!

Now the **** population is taking over, they hang out like twats at the vicargae lane car park,out side the lovely McDonalds, under the stour centre,and the best of places around the bank street bus stops.

The reason for bank street, it has no cctv coverage so as you can expect lots of school kids getting off busses are mugged for money or phones and this area is a hot spot for pick pocketing! Also another hot spot for simular reasons is the memorial gardens.

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Ashford town is an epicentre of **** activity. It is going to be near impossible for me to sum up the sheer ‘*********’ of this scab on the sweaty hairy back of Kent, but hey-i’ll give it a shot.
I’ve lived in Ashford for all 23 years of my life and have been a first-hand witness to the development of it as a hub for ******, ******, ***** and all the **** of the circus. Ashford has been moulded to cater for the **** massive. Take for example it’s shops. The stores in town consist mainly of Mobile Phone Shops (EVERY brand), numerous sportswear shops, Jewellers, bookies,three or more Discount Shops (Mad Max AND mad Max 2 in very close proximity of one another), The Big Three (Wilkinsons, Matalan AND TK Maxx) and the designer outlet centre which offers factory clothes at very cheap prices. Flies to ****. There is one ‘designer’ clothes shop which once came up with the marketing slogan ‘If Posh and Becks lived in Kent, they’d shop here’.
The most worrying thing is that it works. There’s a Hot Dog vendor in town that does more business than McDonalds on a Saturday.
There are several ‘hotspots’ dotted around the town centre where **** activity reaches an alarming rate. The County Hotel Weatherspoons will house approximately 10,000 of the ******** on a Saturday night. Cheap beer and fruit machines? Yes please! Every day the rear of the afore-mentioned drinking establishment turns into a quagmire of nickelson tops, bad jewellery, Burberry and slurs on the English language.
The front of McDonalds is another hotspot. Rubouts loitering on the poles outside, shouting at girls and staring down old people, openly lighting up spliffs whilst trying to maintain a 87 degree peak on their caps.
The only decent place to drink in Ashford Town centre is Bar 27. My friends and I enjoy sitting out on the cobbled streets outside, watching the same four cars drive past continuously on the look out for ‘yatties’. I actually saw a car the other day with ‘ASHFORD’ typed out in silver on the top of it’s windscreen. Unbelievable.
The saddest thing about Ashford ***** is that they actually think they are 50 Cent/Beckham and don’t understand why they get ripped. They think they are fashionable, when in reality they are just watered-down wannabe Essex Boys who will go through life working at Zenith Windows, getting sacked, catching STI’s, listening to drum and base, stealing, becoming thicker and burning his 50cc moped around the ring road.

I’m about to leave Ashford for the mean streets of Birmingham, but if you are ever unfortunate enough to find yourself in my hometown heed my advice: Keep your head down, and get out of there.

How grim is your Postcode?