Went for a drive the other day and stumbled upon this gem of a town. Well, when I say town, I mean the place where Chavs go on holiday. It’s packed trailer to trailer, much like the council flats from which they’ve come to escape from. The beach, although very lovely in a desolate kind of way, lies on the River Severn, which is so toxic you can’t swim in it anyway, and even if you wanted to it has such dramatic tides that it spends half the time at least a mile away from the actual beach.
As far as we could see from the safety of our car, the nightly entertainment consisted of one pub, the worlds worst theme park (just type ‘Brean Leisure Park’ into Google) and a shop that had the spellbinding promise of a name ‘Cigs Booze Grub’
There were still St.Georges cross flapping folornly out of the windows, merely adding to the desperate sense of Ennui that this place emanates.