Bedford, It’s never ending, It’s hell

Living in Bedford, Bedfordshire

Imagine living in a perpetual state of fear and apprehension. Imagine every Lodis and Costcutter has a gang of 14-21 year old mixed race hoodies standing guard at the doors, making gun signs with their fingers, whilst showing the rear end of their boxer shorts to all and sundry. Imagine every walk down any pavement is an assault course of buggy’s loaded with LIDL’s bags, driven by angry (SO angry) faced ‘girls’ with a half smoked B&H (silver) dangling from there lips.

Welcome to Bedford.

From my second storey Bedford Bedroom I heard a live version of the ‘Jeremy Kyle’ show being played out for the benefit of me and my neighbours at 02:26, this morning. Our principal players were Lewis, Aiden and an unnamed female. All were about 18.

How grim is your Postcode?

Lewis (apparently) doesn’t care if his girlfriend ‘gets f*cked by some bald guy’ because she’s a ‘F*CKING WHOOOOOOOOORE!’. Aiden, meanwhile, is trying to calm Lewis down with ‘a burn’.

Aiden doesn’t think ‘she should play him like that’ but she doesn’t think Lewis should’ve ‘done him in’ (does this mean murder!?) Apparently, Aiden tried his best to ‘hold him back’. *Lewis has exited stage left for a kebab*

No-name-female has been left on her own to cry, as Aiden has followed Lewis to the kebab shop. (Gay liaison..? No.) Now the loud black men have gone, my neighbour shouts at her to ‘have some more respect’. She just weeps and suckles her (blue) WKD.

This, or something like this happens every Thursday/Friday and Saturday. There are (usually) two men to every girl. Lot’s of throaty shouting. Slang terms I can barely figure out.

It’s never ending.

It’s hell.