Boston, Lincs, every bad thing done to excess

Living in Boston, Lincolnshire

well, I found myself unfortunate to live in Boston for eight, nearly nine years. I’ve lived in a lot of places; some good some bad. In Scotland, Wales and England I’ve lived and worked in some towns, some mentioned on this site so I can say honestly that Boston is without doubt ‘as rough as ****’.

I’m a Lincolnshire lad myself, so it pains me to say that this place is **** nirvana. It’s almost like a parody of a chavtown, every bad thing done to excess. After washing the blood off my front door for the umpteenth time (I used to live in Vauxhall Rd near the footy ground) and wiping the phlegm off my shoes once again after walking the pavements, I decided to get out.

No more twats trying to cycle through me on the pavement, no more dodging the skagheads and drunks trying to force money out of me when I went for a drink, no more wasters begging for drug money while eastern europeans were drafted in to work in the fields because the locals prefer to scrounge, no more burglars trying to get into my shed. It’s like a huge weight lifted; honestly, leaving this place has been good for my health.

How grim is your Postcode?

All the ***** who sit in the marketplace roundabout screaming at everyone; all the losers getting blasted in ‘The Still’, all the idiots driving their Corsas up and down outside the shops; you’re doomed to stay there and that’s your tragedy.