I was enchanted as a child by the fairground wonderland of Blackers. The promenade, the pleasure beach, the trams and the illuminations. Now even the thought of visiting this 10th rate smack-****** ********, grotty, STD happy [email protected], makes me rather have root canal work done!
I think Blackers has a tolerance limit of 4 hours, then you start to have the joy for life sucked out of you (as if by a Dementor from the Potter films), as you absorb more tackiness in your slowly disintegrating brain.
From the south shore up to the north pier is Chavtown. It’s no wonder you can’t even wonder around the pleasure beach anymore. Most of the pubs have bouncers on them as soon as they open. Go in the arcades and you’re checking your own personal space for pondlife persons of the toothless kind.
The shops design is clearly still stuck in the 60s. The few modern ones are for the ****/micro **** and any other offshoot of **** subculture that spawns on Blackpool’s sorry streets. Security everywhere there too.
The pleasure beach is now a fortress and you can’t gawp at what you can or wont go on, can’t see any pleasure in that. When I used to see that laughing clown in that glass box I used to think..ha! a laughing clown that’s soo funny! Now it’s, shut up you annoying [email protected]@@!
I Don’t really wish to walk on excrement beach nor paddle, let alone swim in that cheap coffee coloured bog-log bobbing sea. Then walk on the pier…what the [email protected]@k for? Walk down the promenade, then walk on another pier? Are you taking the [email protected]@s? Then walk along the front for an hour… this is fun? [email protected]@k that! OK, let’s go up the tower in a lift with folk wearing Eau de BO. Or Eau de [email protected]@t! Even at 120 meters up, there’s no escape!