Forres (quite a long way from Cairo, lots of miles from Vietnam)

From Grant Parks famous ‘piv’ and roots down to the Riverslea of Pilmuir, Forres remains a must visit destination for ***** of all nationalities. Seen as somewhat of a Mecca for the modern ****, this smallish town near the Moray coast has for years basked in the not undeserved title of ‘drugs capital of the north’. The locals are undeniably proud of this, and as such feel able to carry themselves with more lariness than your average small town ****.

Forresians, as they are known, have long been known to suffer from an *********** of *****. This breed of body-kitted Nova-driving losers has long brought terror to the High Street at the weekend. Always to be found ‘doing laps’ of ‘the street’ from the Dicksons roundabout to the ‘Andersons turn’ while blaring out shocking chart-based dance music, these residents of a town that could otherwise be quite nice are truly ****.

Fashionable hangouts vary depending on age and status of said *****. The youngsters usually begin their drinking and solvent abuse in the dark luxury of Grant Park which, although being close to the Police station, does offer the cover of the woods if they ever need to leg it. Those more confident ***** used to be found drinking at the Merkat Cross in the centre of the High Street in full view of all, but a recently-introduced bylaw has banned all drinking in public. While I am thankful for anything which makes the life of a **** any more difficult, I can’t support this draconian measure as I like to drink in the sunshine too.

Most now tend to do their drinking in licensed premises such as the Carlton or Eagle, both nasty, ****** pubs where a fight is never far away. Since Forres lost the uberchav hangout of Oppos nightclub, with resident DJ Krazy G, the Mosset Tavern remains the only late night venue, where **** and non-**** are forced to mingle, to everyone’s disgust. Tensions usually boil over outside the popular kebab shop run by experienced purveyor of bad meat, Turkish Tom. No ground has seen more blood spilt than that outside this establishment.

How grim is your Postcode?

So, in case you need reminding, don’t visit Forres. Stay at home instead. And remember: down with *****!