Catrine, the village of the damned

Living in Catrine

A small village near Kilmarnock, – a town which in itself deserves an article in this web site – Catrine sees itself as an ‘historic mill town’. This may be true but it is not an accurate description of the village. Catrine is a ned town (the word ‘ned’, is the Scottish
equivalent of the word ‘****’).

Situated in East Ayrshire, a county which is home to a phenomenal number of ****, Catrine is by no means the county ‘ned capital’. All towns in East Ayrshire are chic-a-bloc with semi-literate, ****** morons.

One of the most salient aspects of Catrine life is dog ownership. Dogs are a favourite companion of the ned because a ****’s brain functions in much the same way as a dog’s brain. Consequently, the entire village and its environs are strewn with copious quantities of dog sh*t. Filth which is left for days and sometimes weeks to be spread and wiped around the local thoroughfares by the trainer clad, shuffling feet of the brain-dead villagers. This however, is of no concern or
inconvenience to the locals as most of them have been up to their knees in **** their entire lives.

How grim is your Postcode?

Another outstanding facet of the village is its ability to accumulate enormous quantities of litter. Plastic ‘kerry oot’ (off sales) bags adorn and infest the flora like some strange and ugly rotting fruit. Half eaten kebabs, empty alcopops containers, beer cans, pizza boxes, pieces of carpet, discarded trainers and baseball caps, everything from rusting fridges and cookers to burned out cars are to be found in all locations.

The remains of a peculiar and utterly revolting local foodstuff may also be found regularly. This brown, gravy-like noxious substance is to be seen spilling from pale yellow polystyrene containers on almost every pavement in East Ayrshire. I have been unable to ascertain the exact nature of this mysterious and odious comestible but judging by the amount of dog **** covering the village, I suspect that an enterprising local ned has somehow managed to capitalise on the excess of excrement. Kebabs or dog **** – the East Ayrshire palate is surely not one to differentiate.

Catrine is home to a large number of short, ball-shaped angry looking females who, if not clogging up the inadequate local transport with their gigantic arses are aimlessly pushing prams and buggies around the village. These woman invariably wear expressions of extreme militancy are are not to be approached. Their sartorial style comprises of over-sized dirty looking anoraks, the ubiquitous dirty-white trainers and of course, the ill fitting, pseudo-faded blue jeans which allow generous dollops of corpulent, pock marked white flesh to spill outwards from their
waistbands. Coiffure is either the ‘council estate face lift’ – a greasy pony tail or bun tied so tight that it pulls the facial features into a grimace – or the ‘burst sofa’ effect, A frazzled,
slept-in frizz.

Shabby baseball caps of various colours are perched atop the vacuous crania of most of the males although the Burberry is still popular. Like the females, the dirty anorak is worn by the male
ned but is sometimes absent, in which case we are treated to the spectacle of the football top. Thoughts of football and possibly cars occupy the remaining brain cells not given over to the areas of dogs, drink, fighting pointlessly and whining pitifully.

Sometimes, all of Catrine ned’s brain cells can be simultaneously active, especially on a weekend evening after a ‘wee shmoke and a bevy’ (small amount of cannabis and some alcohol) resulting in
some spectacular and confusing altercations as the bewildered **** make their way home from their drinking dens. Innocent people are often attacked as are, somewhat bizarrely, inanimate objects such as bus stops and lampposts. These violent rages would seem to be the result of extreme disorientation as their tiny brains try to cope with thoughts of dogs, football, cars and
drink all at the same time.

Set as it is amid the once pleasant, rolling, verdant topography of the Scottish lowlands, the people of Catrine inherited a place of beauty and peace. Sadly, they have created a place of filth, noise, greed, violence and ignorance. And truth be told, it’s largely their own fault.