Cambridge

Yes, **** types are abundant in posh towns as well! I’m afraid they look and sound exactly the same here as they do anywhere else. Not quite sure why all ****’s affect that dumb “alright mate” talk. Perhaps they think it makes them look “street”.

I think ****’s are hilarious. They are the clowns of modern living. C’mon: hillbilly cap, grey marl jogging pants (aka care in the community safety pants) tucked into white socks. Lets not forget the obligatory dopey look and constant jerky staring that afflicts these people. They are the ultimate doofuses.

I saw a superb **** in Newmarket. Anyone who knows the town may well have glimpsed this cracker giving it some spazzy moves near KFC. He is **** royalty with his jogging pants/white sox and, the piece de resistance…his beige mocassan-style slippers. He is a sight to behold and would embarrass a real hillbilly.

How grim is your Postcode?

OK, Cambridge ****’s primary hang-out is the Grafton Centre. Best spotting day is Saturday in the food hall. Where they will be gorging their malnourish bodies on burgers.

I’m sure there used to be more around Grafton Centre but it just ain’t the same since Iceland got demolished.

When its busy you can get away with tripping them up. Yeah, they might think you did it but can they prove it? Anyhoo anyone who cannot whip a **** or two by themselves should hang their heads in shame.

I’ll tell you why they are everywhere: because people are afraid of them. And people are no longer prepared to confront these idiots and let them know they disapprove of their seedy little activities.

Why are people afraid of them?a because of the dumbo look. The whole look has been, despite arguments to the contrary, cultivated to give a mentalist/care in the community/underclass/street look. Of course, its all a load of ****. But always bare in mind, like any gang nutters, they rely on their strength in numbers as most i have encountered are utterly puny and easily knocked down.

Y’see their weakness is that they have a poor diet, are obsessed by drugs and not very bright (granted there are a few posh boys who yearn to dumb it down, like, mate). The **** is largely all talk and no trousers. Well not real trousers as we all know.

So I haven’t actually written much about the Cambridge ****.

But I would say merciless ridicule is your best weapon, with fists saved in case necessary. Laughter is a good weapon. Make sure they know you find them amusing not scary.

Don’t let a bunch of hillbilly cracker fucktards ruin your life. They’ve already ruined theirs.

Cambridge

Cambridge is “posh”, right? Internationally-famous seat of learning, high-tech research and development businesses, middle-class leafy avenues?

Well, yes, but travel a mere mile from the historic centre in a number of directions, and it is as ****** as anywhere else in the UK!

Cambridge ***** live in one of a number of ghastly estates on the edge of the city… Arbury, Chesterton (Chavsterton), Cherry Hinton (a place that **** residents call “Cherrytown”!) and the Whitehill estate are prime examples.

How grim is your Postcode?

Cambridge also cleverly operates a form of modern apartheid! Those of us who enjoy shopping/socialising in a picturesque, cosmopolitan city centre full of decent citizens have the old part of the city, around the market square and colleges.

*****, on the other hand, had their very own town centre built for them in the 80s – the Grafton centre… or in chavspeak… “THE GRAAAAAAAAFTON”!

The Graaaaaaaafton is packed with everything a **** could want and need – Mothercare, Burger King, JD Sports… there’s even a stall in the middle selling Burberry handbags!

Naturally, the Graaaaaaafton is the favoured central hangout for all Cambridge *****, and innocent civillians who wander into this hellhole in search of a normal shop would be forgiven for thinking that you need to be wearing a shellsuit and burberry cap to gain entry.

But the true masterstroke of the Graaaaaaaafton came when an Italian restaurant was opened on the upper floor near the entrance to the cinema. Instantly, all ***** started taking their Donnas and Traceys to this restaurant, in the belief that it was “classy” – just because it had a few pot plants and candles dotted around. And, of course, it serves “pasta innit” – a class above McDonalds!

The best moment of my ****-spotting career came on Valentines Day… I had taken the other half to watch an early evening film in the aforementioned cinema, and when we emerged at about 7pm, there was a queue of ***** no less than 100 long waiting for a table at this Italian restaurant! Out of hundreds of choices of venues to eat in our fine city, of course the Graaaaaaaafton Italian was the only possible place they could go for that special occassion!

Having never seen so much burberry and fake gold in one place, I stopped for a few minutes to watch… and imagine the hilarity when one-by-one, ***** at the back of the queue dropped out and said words along the lines of “**** this Lisa, lets get a Burger King”!

So any visitors to Cambridge be warned – avoid the Grafton centre… one of the true motherships of **** activity in the UK!