A former mining village that seems immune to any form of improvement. The two main roads leading into the place have the Ballingry sign proudly displayed but it has gloomy Royston Vasey ‘you’ll never leave’ feel about it. You won’t see this place twinned with any notable European village, it; would more likely be a shanty town in a third world country.
The main shopping square looks derelict with most of the shops boarded up with the usual overly tattooed munter women and zombie junkies roaming aimlessly looking to mug any unsuspecting stranger.
The place is full of feral roaming mutant kids who’s idea of fun is burning wheelie bins, terrorising OAP’s and keying cars. If you go out at night you’ll probably need a full set of body armour and a Kevlar vest to feel safe.
I suppose Ballingry and places like it had some respectability before they closed all the mines, now the statisticians have to invent a new scale of multiple deprivation for this place as is off the scale.
Don’t live here unless you want to have a short life or end up on prozac.