Cas-vegas, as it’s known locally and ironically. Home to the iconic Burberry factory… and so bad even the ne’er-do-wells are gagging to leave!
This place started dying in the 1980’s, after the Tories shut down the mines, and anyone not on the dole left.
Today, the town looks like a cross between a level from Fallout and Little Britain. (I blame the heavy metal pollution in the water). What we have here is weed smoking idiots in bad shell suits and baseball caps. Most of them would have to go several evolutionary levels to be called ***** elsewhere. Nuking the place would actually improve it.
Chief past times here among the younger yobs seem to be spray-paint huffing, drunken violence and ******* around smoking… among the older, slightly less devolved it’s going out getting blind drunk at one of the grotty clubs [or all 3 of them] and copulating in shop doorways… Slightly better off usually invade Wakefield for these pastimes, descending on the place like a track-suited, bling-encrusted horde every Saturday night.
Granny are well supplied with bingo halls and slot machine arcades, hence the stupid nick name.
One of the odder points is that there doesn’t seem to be many working aged here, those who do remain sit behind the Mcdonalds drive thru window, a stark reminder on why Asda sells Freederm. The working aged tend to leave their oiky little offspring with the Grannies.
Castleford could be said to export ne’er-do-wells to the rest of the country. Sorry about that…
Suffice to say, if someone wanted to give Yorkshire an enema, this is where they’d stick the tube.