night club, venue, bag -a- poo…

club life –

now, were to start upon this town, wisbech, it aint even pronounced correctly. upon visiting this hole, a few times within day time many years ago due to there been a record shop and myself wanting to go there&my perants going shoppin ther, i wud luk around at this complete **** pot. it was always messy, dirty untidy and just ******.

now in january of this year i heard there was a rave at wisbeach’s nightclub, now i fort well its in a club, not a rave venue its gonna be *****, but upon summerising the line up, the artists there was just too gud to miss, so i got my self down there.

straight away i pulled up in the car outside the club, the club been next door to the police station for one, and fort rite lets get inside and check it out. upon getting inside i found myself not even been searched, and there been 4 big black bouncers and i mean big and black.

first incident – my friend gets stopped in the toilet and forced to take a pill by sum scruff lads, while the bouncer watched, i mean my mate wanted the pill but this is all a little strange,

2nd – i get accused by ****** of selling pills, just because my mates mashed out his head and im where’ing expensive clothes, havent these people heard of evisu and prada, it aint like its 1980, everybody has the oppertunitie to luk good.

3rd – a wisbeach ******* mashed out his face throws up all over my mates shoes, this is it weve had enough

we look around to see 1990 hair cuts and ****** galor. wer leavin its getting ****

we get home the peterborough to find out later in the week, that usually ****** through people that arent from around there over the harbour wall which is fortunatly straight outside the club next to the police station, luky we left

wisbeach has no
– fashion
– styles
– moral
– hygene
– no nitelife becos its been rueined by ******
– no real bouncers as they only deal drugs aswell

and now no club as its changed its name again.

just thinking about thaat a minute, years ago the club was called summit, then it got changed to mist, all they did was take the letters down off the front of the tin buildings roof, and rearrange sum and throw others a way, summit **** they throw away the s and the u, they could of used them on there caravans…

on a serious note really dont bother visiting this **** whole. even if it ever has a good djing line up again or band gig, really dont bother visiting the town or the venue, ild ratha stick my head down the toilet and let sum 1 piss on me… its that bad

“Wisbech has the distinction of having one of the finest original Regency terraces in the country” – or so the local tourist garb claims.

Its’ other attributes are somewhat less publicised. The Market Place – once a distinctive, flourishing wealth of emporia is now home to “Everything for a pound” This is where the typical be-larded Wisbech **** sniffs out a bargain. There are at least two of these shops, so that that on occasion they have competitive sales, whipping the Wisbech **** into paroxisms of delight. It means that the male of the species doesn’t have to send his girlfriend (or sister – usually the same thing) to Kings Lynn to perform exotic services for their more up-market kin, for at least two days.

On that touchy subject, the local **** Chronicle has a very upsetting section called Marriages. Witness the photofit picture of a thick-set primeval looking character, menacing and grimacing in grainy black and white. Take my word for it, the groom’s never much better either.

The paper has had some journalistic firsts. The case of Mr Pink and Mr Berry at the former roadside loos at Guyhirn (gateway to Wisbech), led to an “in-depth” article as to the innovative use of a 2″ diameter hole between cubicles. Police reported that one offending party had claimed they were conducting a geological survey. Clearly a gross misuse of the Thesaurus when looking up the word – anatomical. The report then detailed the local doctor’s medical examination of the offending parties and a report was printed that one could only describe as medically graphic. I suspect that the owner of the carpet store advertising on the page opposite was not happy about product placement that day.

Another first was “Christmas Baby”. Hoh hoh no, not a modern-day nativity snap of the happy siblings, sorry – couple, holding young Damien, but a front page emergence of yet another **** head from a rather gory orifice. Can’t exactly remember the heading, but I think it read Lost Kitten found in Terrington St.Clement”

Another first for the town was one the first “out of town” supermarkets in the late seventies. Though this one was more in-town for security reasons. I suspect it’s now been upgraded to the Lidl chain of value stores.
It was also the host stadium for inter-***** clan It’s a Knock-Out. During the Gooz-garg toym (gooseberry season to you) a fleet of new-but-filthy Mercedes would enter the Super Quay carpark. Greasy matted-hair beings would emerge, drive out the indigenous species from said supermarket, then do battle with frozen cod and selected-offer dairy products. Points were awarded on the basis of stitches required on their chosen victim. Oscar type awards were given out to those whose victims required prosthetic replacement.

A good friend said to me at school. “If you stand for ten minutes in Trafalgar Square you will see someone from Wisbech” As the soup kitchen has now been moved to Temple, I suspect his sage-like addage no longer bears up.

Where to begin…Wisbech is in the unique position of having three different Chavistic influences combining to produce a rich multicultural cocktail of awfulness. The indigenous ******* are spectacular enough, but add to the mix a strong traveller/***** influence and a recent influx of Chavskis from E. Europe, and the result is breathtaking
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