Belfast: whar yooy lookun at, reet?

Well, what a nice website!  I feel my hometown may have been somewhat neglected, and i feel that i should mention our Belfast version of the ****, the ‘spide’.  I have lived in England, Scotland, and Wales, but never have I seen such a phenomenon as that which infests good old peaceful Belfast.
Our ***** are the descendents of paramilitary groups (at least, that’s what they think), and quite proud of it.  They all look completely identical, and you won’t be able to tell them apart from normal *****, until of course, you hear them speak.  “Oi mayat, hoo a’**** yoooy fink yooy are, ayl ***** battle ye.  Do yer nees, reet?” translated, that means, “who are you?  you are in my territory, i will throw bottles at you, or damage your kneecaps”.
They have quite a funny habit of paying artists with their drug money to paint murals on their walls, and mark out territory lines (by way of irish or british colours).  They also wear colour-coordinated tracksuits, depending on which particular cesspool they inhabit.

The problem with this particular breed of ****** is that, unlike the regular **** (who thinks he is well ‘ard), these ones think they are in an army of some sort.  They see it as their duty to protect their “cammyoonidees” by carrying knives and broken bottles with them at all times, and regularly assaulting anyone who inadvertently wears the colour green, or alternatively, blue.  I need not explain the significance of these colours over here (we’ve all seen the news).
The jewel in the crown however, is something you might have heard of: the peace line.  In our city, would you believe it, the police have to cordon off two neighbouring areas every evening, with giant extendable metal barriers!  There is also a huge metal fence permanently between these two rival ******* breeding spots, to stop them damaging each others’ council houses with thrown half-bricks and petrol bombs.  Another prime, and regular target for these missiles, is anything with a siren (yes, that includes ambulances and fire engines!!!).  I must stop now or I’m going to be sick.  Thank you for reading.

How grim is your Postcode?