Visit Bradford, The pound shop mecca of the north.
You call em c**v’s we call em scroats… different name, same s**t.
They swan around in their ‘George at Asda’ burbury caps, and Adidas tracksuit tops from Matalan, 2 for a fiver.
They all hang around outside Burger King while the bird gets her tammys from superdrug.
They’ll be Grandmother c**v, Tina (32 yrs) queuing up at the postie with a fag in one hand and a giro burning a hole in her bum bag, with her baby grandaughter Kay-liegh, in her arms, because mother c**v Kylie (14 yrs) is on her drug treatment order class.
15 year old Dad c**v Kyle will be hard at work in cash converters bartering for best price on his 5 DVD players, 2 xbox’s and a playstation from last night’s burglarys.
Nobody can say bradford isnt diverse, Here in bradford, we even have wannabe asian c**v’s who always take things one step further with compulsary golden tooth, flashing keypad nokia phones ( x 2), and f reg honda civic, “twin cam mate init” with go slower UV tubes underneath. of course they wont hang around outside burger king, and prefer to sit 4 a breast in their Civics comparing sovereign rings and psudo jamaican gangser accents.
One of the scariest things about bradford is that you cannot tell when the g**o’s have moved into town, as they blend seemlessly into the chavettes pushing their car boot prams about town between new look and the bus station, except for the obvious lack of common Bradford accent.
So why delay visit bradford today!