When you first arrive in bangor- without even knowing- you immediately can sense the emmence chavness of this ”quaint” north Wales ”city” maybe its all the renault saxos on the B570 or the smell of weed and chips as you drive in through the Maesgierchen estate- known as MASS G to local boyos . It is known as the Welch city of learning- cos of its university- but the main thing u will learn coming to this place is the fact that it is FULL TO THE BRIM of the most authentic ***** ever- most of them you can find on a saturday morning ******* round the Deniol shopping centre- or outside boots to you non bangorians. They usually are eighteen year old lads (chisselled jaws, cheeky grin, bad boy types) wearing shellsuit tracky, beige fleeces, air max, a reebok cap and ALWAYS smoking a ***. And they usually have a good looking blonde lass ******* around them waiting to have a ride up to MASS G where she might pull on the way… The favourite phrase of these types is ”eh boyo dowent yuw ***** know stewduns dowent belong ere so ***** go and suck ****” and do NOT go down into Bangor on a sat night cos all the farmers will batter you…unless you are a **** then they will either try and buy weed off you or sell you a sheep to shag for the night.

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A lovely seaside resort; 10 years ago. Now overun by Steeks in their modded chavmobiles, Bangor has become somewhat of a hotspot for drunken disorder, underaged drinking and donuts in the seafront carpark.

Since the building of the Kilcooley estate and the migration of ***** from Belfast to these new, ‘luxury’ 2 up, 2 down terraced dumps Bangor has died.

Formerly a beautiful seaside holiday town, Bangor is now famous for the street racing and fluorescent tube lights, undoubtedly stolen from their local education facility, painted blue in order to look like a real set of ‘neons’ on the bottom of their 12 year old, 6th hand Nova.

How grim is your Postcode?

If you are into drunken abuse being hurled at you from outside Winemark, or wish to be cloberred over the head with an empty Buckfast bottle, Bangor is the town for you. There are a grand totel of 2 hotels, adding up to a totel of 3 stars for the parents, and a Borstel for the kids, where they can learn the local ‘Steek Speak’ and the proper way to escape the ‘peelers’ down ‘Banger’ without getting ‘lifted’ and getting taken back to their proud and wasted parents.

The daytime TV is brilliant as well. Just buy a pirate Sky Digital box from the market and tap into the paying customers lines from more upspoken areas such as Ballyholme and Crawfordsburn.

On the subject of markets; our local market is held on a Wednesday morning. An obvious excuse to skip school for the rest of the week and get to browse through the stalls of fake Kappas and cigarette lighters. I honestly don’t know how the market traders make any money; First of all they gets their benefits, then buy the pirate goods over the internet from a BT internet booth (if it hasn’t been vandalised) and then they have their goods stolen. It’s a vicious circle.

The High School isn’t much better – when they attend. I have many a day been driving home and having “Wee Grammar ****” or the first thing that comes to their 50 word vocabulary. Why? Because I have the intellect to go to school and get good grades, rather than sit out on the street smoking or jacking cars.
The first thing that comes to my mind, is “Look where you’ll be in 10 years, you hobo!” But I wouldn’t dare say such a thing for fear of having my “Windees” or “Windows” put through.

Onto their Chavmobiles and Chavchicks. Does The Fast And The Furious style streetracing sound your cup of tea? Yes? Come down to Bangor to intermingle with the Carjackers and Tax Evaders who have made the Pickie Carpark their playground. They then proceed to unintentionally impregnate their Chavchicks upon the bonnet of their supped up little ‘Banger’ in full view of the decent members of the general public who have the bravery to venture out of their homes after 6pm. After some suspension carnage these leeches of society play Call on Me by Eric Prydz through their stolen IceMan beatbox, while at the same time activating their ‘legit’ police scanner to make sure they don’t get a ticket.

As Bangor doesn’t have much to offer for the dear Chavlings they are forced to stand in disconcerting groups outside their local ‘Offy’ provoking members of the public to buy them some White Lightning or Bucky. If all else fails they will approach a more physically mature member of their own kind and ask them to get them alcohol as they are under 18. This usually isn’t a problem, but as we know, the **** will probably run off with their money and buy some ‘Wacky Backy’.

However, In what I say, there are nice parts of Bangor. As long as you stay in your own home or in your own area, you are safe. Around the area of Bangor Grammar School, of which I attend 5 days a week, (which is compulsory outside the High) there are some rather nice sites to see. The McKee Clock, which is beautiful during the day, is actually quite decent looking, for being in the middle of the Town Centre. I wouldn’t recommend going there in the evening though, as Steeks seem to like it just as much as us regular folk. There is also Ballyholme. It has nice, 19th century homes which seemingly not even the wealthy drug baron ***** can afford. Also, there is Conlig, where I live. It is a few miles away from the nearest **** ******** territory, and not somewhere the ***** enter because it is close to the Cop Shop.

So, that’s my summary of Bangor. Not a place you want to visit, but the photographs from the late 1980’s were nice looking. It is unfortunate that I grew up witnessing such atrocities but hopefully, someday we will see the Pied Piper of Bangor arriving to take these **** away.

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