Gotta love those town hall steps.
One of the largest and most prosperous towns of the 18th, 19th and early 20th centry, once at the absolute forefront of the industrial revolution only to stand as a testement to what could have been given a lack of the waste’s of carbon we know only too well. Welcome to Bolton.
I actually wonder what it would be like to bring myself to be one of these ****, if only to make life so easy. To find even the most remote ‘shineh fing’ entertaining; to think that putting a brick through a bus stop is the best thing to ever happen to the world. And of course, to never have to work and still be able to afford the most expensive clothing available (gotta love those stripy shirts) simply because my own mother is 30 and already a grandparent 8 times over.
To take a phrase from a good friend of mine, “intellectual osmosis” occurs only too often should you go outside your own house – this is the process of actually feeling more stupid than you are just by looking at those around you.
From the most basic of places of Safeway to the more distant necessities of bolton such as the train station, you’ll never be more than a few feet away from a good old ****, harrassing you for “10p fert bus cos ah cant gerrome” (almost as if 10p would get you more than 5 metres in a bus) and hurling abuse at you only when in packs of 50 so they feel secure. Great fun.
If you ever find yourself unfortunate enough to be in Bolton (Especially the Town center or on a friday night, but the general steets are bad enough) remember to secure all pockets, carry a large blunt rusty instrument at all times and get the **** out of there.