Chorlton is relatively a decent area. It encompasses Beech road, with its trendy boutiques and bars attracting the ‘right’ folk and its large Victorian houses with an eclectic mixture of artists, professors and young professionals for their residents. But all suburbs, unless it’s Chelsea, have thier murky lagoons that are the sink estates and the backwaters in which the scum float, a place that society forgot on purpose. There are several reasons attributed to this.
The unfortunate souls that occupy Nell Lane and Merseybank estates are easy to put into a category. It is a stereotype. They are scum through and through. From the little f***kers that would pot your window in for a dare to the layabouts who haven’t done a days work in their sad, pathetic life’s. It is a travesty to think they can class ‘Cholton’ (mispronunciation of the r) as their hometown. The village life of Beech road is shattered when the scallywags invade it bringing their smell with them. Go! Get out and never grace Chorlton with your bony, dopey faces again!
Some of the scumbags that you can spot in the town centre now desecrate this once fine area. I don’t even want to delve into much detail about it but they are the lowest of the low and their enclaves are the cesspits of Manchester. To think they are ‘hard’ is laughably preposterous. 99 per cent of them couldn’t fight a rice pudding that has been lying in a student’s fridge for a month. The chavettes are the most hideous of god’s creations too. I wouldn’t touch you with a 6 ft barge pole, love. The chavs tend to hang about on the estates as the in the ‘village’ centre they are ousted out by the intellectual majority. Needless to say I have never seen a ‘Mc-e-dees’ teeming with more scum then on 6 o’clock on a Friday night. It’s terrible that the fingers of ill society have gripped this place by the throat, but as long as there is the likes of the bourgeois, guardian googling, Starbucks sipping type living there, those scumbags will never, ever go for the jugular.