Aylesbury

Imagine my delight upon reading the local rag and finding a huge, indignant article about a posting on this website. I am thrilled to find a forum for like minded people, who spend every day in a state of constant amazement at the ever increasing amoeboid mass of **** that slither their way round this **** little town.

What can I say? The fact that Stanley Kubrick saw fit to film some of A Clockwork Orange here was horribly prescient. The similarity between Alex and his droogs and the ratfink scrags that irritate the piss out of me every day ends here. At least Alex was a witty, if misguided soul. The inherent whiff of violence, that hangs like a smog around Aylesbury, is more primitive than a shark attack.

How I fondly remember the time when I was greeted by a fuelled up **** outside The Littern Tree. I bitterly regret simply walking past him on my own. Maybe he took offence to my carefree stroll and decided to bring me into his world. With a headbutt. To be fair, it was a ******* good headbutt that floored me. As I lay dazed on the chewing gum splattered street, he towered over me and asked, ratherly agressively, if ‘I wanted some?’. Funny, I thought he had already answered that question for me. I replied that I didn’t want any and got up to get the **** out of there, as he was held back by his acolytes. A taxi driver who saw what happened told me that this chap had been having a pop at people all evening. I guess that just made me a statistic.

How grim is your Postcode?

Even worse, was a Sunday lunch at The Aylesbury Duck. This was a meal born of necessity, not desire. In retrospect, perhaps we should have gone hungry. This is a Hungry Horse pub and is the scourge of modern society. Imagine the delight of **** **** where they can find a place to get pissed and dump their spawn. I was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the mewling brats had taken their shoes off, out of respect for the typhoid ridden carpet. On closer inspection, it seemed that their feet were blackened with dirt and that the carpet may have been better off if they had worn shoes.

What a treat! As I ordered the drinks, my arms stuck to the bar. As the ashen faced hag that presided over this establishment served me, I noted that the drinks were also in plastic glasses. The signs weren’t good. The menu was diverse, offering big ******* plates of food, all with chips. Even the exotica, like the sweet and sour chicken. Food for the scared, indeed. We settled on a roast.
It wasn’t very nice. It may not have even been beef. I wouldn’t have been shocked to find a collar in amongst the veg (such as it was).

We ate quickly, which seemed fitting with local custom. As we dined, we were entertained by some urchins. A little girl was upset because another child had been nasty to her. It’s mother, necking a bottle of WKD, gave her some words of comfort and advice,

‘Well, don’t come to me. ******* hit her!’

It’s good to know that the future generation is in safe hands.

God help us all.

Aylesbury

Aylesbury; One time quiet market town and home to the venerable John Hampden. Today however Aylesbury is a **** ******** concrete dump with a probable average citizen IQ of 17.

The local ***** seem to have grown exponentially in population during the last couple of years, probably owing to the fact that most of them seem to reproduce at about the age of 11. They arrange themselves into groups (or “crews”, to use their language) of about 50, with each member presumably looking for safety in numbers. These societies seem to constantly be at war with one another, and humorously deface other crews Graffti to show they are the best. Notable examples of this would be the “Blaze Crew” changing the “Ice Crew” vandalism to read “Mice Crew”. Such wit these fellows have.

In one of lifes great ironies, the favoured meeting place for these unsociables is the local library, facing the Bus Station. Other haunts include Friars Square Shopping Centre, Friairs Square Car Park and an innocous little alley called Highbridge Walk. The latter has been a scene of much drug abuse and violence, the police will not walk down it in groups of less than two wearing stab-proof vests.

How grim is your Postcode?

To conclude, If you have the misfortune to end up stranded in Aylesbury, amuse yourself with the daily tribulations of these fools and hope to god/gods/others you recieve transport away from the town toute-suite!

Aylesbury

Aylesbury… What can I say? For those of you that know Aylesbury you will know what I mean when I say it is probably the ********* area in Buckinghamshire.
There are several different **** estates that breed different forms of **** such as Quarrendon, Southcourt and Elmhurst.
Regular haunts for under 16 ***** include the town centre clock (classy) and Jansal Square on Bedgrove – there is a regular teen brawl here on a Friday night. For those over the age of 16 there is the Buckinghamshire Yeoman. This establishment is like a sea of Adidas and hairspray. You will quite regularly see the Kevla **** outside this pub in an F Reg Vauxhall Nova that has over sized alloy wheels with an exhaust that resembles a child’s beach bucket.

How grim is your Postcode?