Boscombe high street, slinkys (**** pronounce it slinkees innit!)
Hey, I *used* to live in portsmouth, and moved to Bournemouth to escape chavness. I have experienced a degree of success, but bearing in mind that Portsmouth is the undisputed capital of all things council estate **** related, this was inevitable.
Now I live round the corner from boscombe high street. There are notable improvements, a walk to the spar (with mandatory group of ********* wearing “**** me” boots and miniskirts, despite sub arctic temperatures) will not generally result in a long stay in the local hozzie, or a short stay in the local morgue.
Although there is a park opposite my house, I must also point out that there are rarely any drunks, and the slightly threatening groups of teenagers who occasionally hang round have not actually done anything (as far as I know) other than emanante dodgyness.
The one major complaint I have is Slinkys.
A clubnight held in a flea ******** tackylooking nightclub, almost directly next to “Greens” an equally tacky smeghole of a pub, complete with large T.V screens so the ***** can stare mindlessly at football, intermittently giving voice to ape-like hoots.
At kicking out time slkinkys is an all outr **** fest.
Tarts in creole earrings and horribly tacky high heeled shoes ( which probab;y cost eighty pounds to purchase and one korean + 5p to manufacture) teeter around drunkenly, screaming abuse at each other in ****-ese.
The blokes stand around, burberry caps pulled down over their eyes, looking for either a) a fight, b) the drunkest ****-ette, most likely to give ******** in side street c) more drugs.
the police mill about, not doing much…….
and me? I hurry home and vomit before scubbing my eyes out with bleach.
If you want a bit of entertainment this is the place to hang about, most of them are well under sixteen and have not as yet, learnt even the most basic of **** etiqutte, their behaviour is even more ridiculous than most ****-ettes and ****-ese.