Ahh Bewdley – a lovely riverside Tudor town on the outskirts of Worcester, home of the severn valley railway, teddy grays sweet shop and lovely wyre forest walks. Not.
This place to the many visitors who go there is a quaint slice of tudor living, cute boutiques, nice looking buildings and the lovely river by which you can sit whilst eating your fish and chips.
Ok, now the truth. Bewdley is just across the river from Wribbesford (on the map – its basically classed as Kidderminster), and since living here 23 years ago, i noticed one thing, when people don’t know you, during your chat, they will ask you “what side of the river are you from?” – i was born and bred in Kinver, and when i say this they literally turn from friendly, to cold as ice. They don’t like outsiders one bit, i could compare it to North and South Korea in many ways, the bridge should have a passport control on it. The irony however is lost on them that 30% of the population is made up of Brummies who moved there to escape the smog.
Once the tourists have gone home and the sun goes down, the pubs start to fill up. If you enjoy feeling on edge all night, may i suggest drinking in ANY of the pubs in town – check out the violent crime stats for Bewdley. If the network of locals doesn’t smash your face in, the Stourport and kiddy gangs will, they all descend on Bewdley on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights and if you don’t take my word for it, drive through Bewdley post 8pm over a weekend. Wild West was how it was described to me by an old woman i met in a shop,and she was understating it.
The drunken fighting is incredible, every single pub in the town has 2 or more door staff on it for all 3 nights, there are cars racing up and down the high street and punch ups outside every pub which spill out onto the street. The main dive is Arches, where the drinkers loiter out on the street spitting, shouting and smoking, leering at women and shouting at men they don’t know.
BEWARE! all these yokels know each other very well, so if you get into a scuffle in one pub, the whole drinking population is out looking for you for the rest of the night and maybe beyond.
My friend went out with a local lad when she first moved in, and then when they split up, she was called “slag” “bitch” and worse by locals during the DAY on the high street.
Living here, going away and then returning, you appreciate how isolated and backward it is, same faces, same pubs, same stories being told that happened 20 years ago – the teenage population, gay boys who look like a boy band, think they are gangsters, but reality they are over privileged brats who think they are tough guys because they were born, schooled and now live and work in Bewdley – no experience of the outside world, and no idea how weak and feeble they are to others who they might kick off on.
To give an example, one afternoon i was walking with my wife through a park called “sand park” which is the local dosser hangout for teens drinking, one lad jumped up and had a pop at me, telling me he didn’t recognise my face and i should f**k off back where i came from and get out of “his ” town. I was born and bred there, before he was even an apple in his dads ball sack – and before his dad married his sister and he was born. I told him this and he took a swing, missed and i returned by picking him up and throwing him about 8 feet across the park. His wingmen had a go but when i turned round they backed off immediately and ran away.
11-16 YEAR OLDS: Bratty overprivileged middle class kids who think they are gangster hardmen –
18-21: Pub dwelling “something to prove” idiots who cant handle their drink.
21-35: Pub drinkers daily, sad tossers who hit the pubs every night because theres nothing else to do except marry your own family members.
Don’t come here. EVER.