Yet if you were to take a trip to the town centre and look past all the historic buildings and occasional street performer and you would see the first signs of an infestation. Yes there is a McDonald’s, but there’s a McDonald’s nearly everywhere these days. There is also a pound shop, but there is a high student population in this city who must retreat to this shop to buy supplies from the meagre cash leftover from tuition fees and booze. Occasionally you would see a flash of the infamous Burberry ‘tartan’, or a retina-bursting brightly coloured shell suit, or a figure with a hoodie pulled over his baseball cap doing his best to look ‘well ‘ard’, or hear someone shout incoherently as their ‘pimped-out’ car rushes right past you at an insane speed.
This is the early stages of a c**v infestation, focused mainly at the council estates at Sturry Road and London Road. On the A2050 there are two subways that run underneath it that several of my fellow students and I must go through in order to get to university or to the town centre. There you can see further evidence in the graffiti clumsily sprayed across the freshly painted white walls; freshly painted to cover up the previous graffit. There too, during the winter when the rain chases them away from hanging around the McDonald’s or TK Max, they congregate to hassle and taunt anyone unlucky enough to want to walk through. Believing themselves to be ‘well ‘ard’ in front of their ‘mates’ as they jump in front of passersby and gesticulate wildly as their atrophied muscles and cheap cider-dulled nerves struggle to interpret the orders from their enfeebled brain to do something approximating a dance, while chattering utter nonsense in their faux-black ‘gangsta’ slang.
There are not many c***s in Canterbury, the infestation is nowhere near as bad is say Romford in Essex or perhaps Maidstone in Kent. However, they are there, and they must be stopped.