Welcome to BERWICK,last town in england before you hit scotland,far outpost to the c**v colony,a growing breed,with a mobile in one hand and a joint in the other,chavettes dutifully push a full pram alongside-which is hard to do when your only 14 and the baby keeps throwing out items that have just been borrowed from the cheap shops.
Boots the chemist on a market day is the haunt of these Mc c***s,on the steps,with a greggs pasty in hand-growling at any non c**v,unless you ask them whats up and the c**v yellow streak shows its full plumage and you hear them discuss the latest crazy frog ringtone,they waddle like penguins when they walk..have you noticed?
gold(ish)sovereign ring is must have-and brother with a vauxhall chavalier,if you wear black they shout-its a goff(goth),as i am a vicar though i always wear black…….DUH!!!!!!!!!!!
So,Berwick is being flooded by the lesser human c**v and the cries of the indignant middle classes is being drowned out by hip hop and bonkers cd vol 23,and to finish this-with a true story,me and an ex-work mate(100% c**v-down to the popper buttoned white shell suit trousers,10 years too late),AND THIS IS TRUE….AS I WAS SIGNING SOME PAPERWORK WITH MY INITIALS (R.E),HE LOOKED DOWN AND SAID,WHAT DOES R.E.STAND FOR?REAL IDIOT?………….never a truer word spoken,berwick council wants to cull seagulls,i am sure we all have a better idea……..bye.
This must be the most backward town in England. Burberry has yet to be discovered by the local c**v community, although Italia 90 shell suits are flying off the racks at Intersport and can be seen being sported by old and young alike (the post office queue on dole-day is like an audition for Joseph of his amazing technicolour dreamcoat).
Woolworths doorway is the local hangout for the 14 and unders, those who survive to puberty go to one of the numerous dingy pubs – Weatherspoons being reserved for special occasions – weddings etc – because it has catering facilities.
Generally the C**v population (11,500 of them) can’t quite scrape together enough of their giros to afford even bad knocked off gear and the whole experience can seem quite surreal – almost retro -but that may be due to the crack lingering in the air.
Be warned – do not be fooled into thinking that it is a lovely market town – it is sad to say that it has gone the way of pretty much every town.
Nice town, shame about the residents!
Berwick-upon-Tweed is a very pretty town with a history dating back to Roman times. Its position on the border of England and Scotland has made it the site of numerous battles and invasions. The most recent invasion has come from inside, from the housing estates, where C***s have been spawned.
I grew up just outside Berwick. How I survived is a question I still ask myself on a regular basis. The old town of Berwick is very pleasant for a weekday visit with bridges, castles and various other architectural things. However, in the late 70s, a number of council estates sprang up around the town, producing generation after generation of ugly, thick children.
The Berwick C**v is a special breed. Clothed in finest garb from the fashion houses of Allsports and TK Maxx, they walk in herds of 5-6. The Berwick accent is not pleasant either. Imagine a mixture of Geordie and Glaswegian and you are getting pretty close. The C***s congregate on benches in Marygate(the main street) outside Woolworths, drinking White Lightning from the dodgy off-licences and terrorising the passers by. At night, they can be found trying to gain entry to Bedrocks Nightclub (bring your own knife) where they dance the night away before going outside for a fight, kebab, piss up against a lamp-post and a quick shag in the doorway of Dixons (not necessarily in that order.)
Oh, and we should also mention the seagulls. These winged rats will attack you at the first available opportunity. They appear to be in league with the c***s, as they will only s**t on you if you are wearing non-chavwear items.
Go to Berwick by all means, but dont go during the night and for god’s sake, do not spend more than 2 hours there!