Who would have thought that Bury St Edmunds in the heart of rural Suffolk would be the breeding ground for little c**v s**m that it is. With its Cathedral and market it is every bit the perfect English town – except for the growing population of rude boys and slappers.
What makes the situation even worse in Bury is the arrogant attitude of these little twats even when the greatest distance they have been from their home was that once a year adventure to Ipswich. Simply their narrow little minds think that spending every night reving their engines at the cattle market is the be all and end all of life. What more pleasure could there be than a day shopping in the Matalan and then hanging out with all the other losers at the D & P or that excuse for a nightclube, Brazilias!!!
I once went out with a girl from Bury and it was the most painful experience of my life. I knew things were not going well when she asked me where Essex was, but worse was to come with the confession that she had never heard of Princess Diana until she died.
Needless to say her two brothers were the definition of chavness, with their racing stripes, two stripe jackets and skinheads.
One word of advice then is to avoid ideas that Bury St Edmunds is a nice quiet town. You just have to count the numbers of 16 year old single mothers stuffing their kids at the Macdonalds by the market on a Saturday lunchtime to realise that it is just the same as anywhere else. When you combined this with the inbred attitude that a night out in Norwich is a once in a lifetime achievement, the situation is beyond any hope.