Who could of thought such a small town could have so many many bastardized human being (*****) in it. you can’t go out at night without one of the little ******** asking you for somr money so they can go buy some ****, usually L&B’s or some cider.These ***** usually hang outside henthorn paper shop/off liscense saying they will **** the **** out of you and shag ur mum if you refuse.At night they seem to love going home smelling of take-away food. The ******* ******* faced ******** swarm around sue’s chippy,pizza tops, and the orient kebab house every night without fail hurling thier food at cars that pass buy. You would think the poor ******* would eat their only meal of the day but they don’t. this must be the reason why they are are skinny *****. i have seen more meat on a butchers pencil fo **** sake.

You have got to admire the **** dress code. Its genius…not! here are some of the most common items of the Clitheroe ****:

berburry baseball cap
addidas ‘trackies’
fake rockport shoes
fake gold chian
argos rings

The only good thing about ***** is they become drug dealers, go to prison, and come out with assholes twice as big as they were when they went in.

How grim is your Postcode?

This a beautiful market town in rural Lancashire, at least on the surface. By night time, it is a **** hotpot of in-breds, ***** and ******* all battling it out on the quaint streets.

The vilest hang outs are often those that think they’re posh. The Emporium is one of those. It’s a tasteless early 90’s refurb of a pub and attracts the new moneyed *****. The owner is a ***** son of a computer salesman and has spent his father’s money vulgarly. It’s a hell hole full of designer geared ***** thinking they’re posh, but listen to their earthy vocabulary and talk of “mowtteers” and you seen realise the’yre utter ****. Only in Clitheroe (clitrow to give it it’s correct name) couls such a dump exist let alone survive.

Other pubs in the town are far more honestly **** – The Bridge will get you a good kicking if you’re found not to be on social – more ***** than ****. The dog used to be run by a fat **** ****, but his legacy still lingers on. Everybody ends up after a good night out in the Key hole (Key Street) – Clitheroe’s pathetic effort of a “night spot” or Whalley’s Rendezvous. Both are where wineos, ***** a, ******* and ******* can eye each other up for a fight/shag. Simply horrible – my advice, stay at home at night and see what’s on telly.

How grim is your Postcode?

As they said in Godzilla, size does matter. But in Clitheroe, even though it’s so, well, microscopically small, size doesn’t matter. I wish the legendary Japanese monster (or monstaaaaa in townie-speak) himself would come and destroy some of the ****-infected teenagers who hang around this otherwise (fairly) quiet, pleasant market town.

No night out in Clitheroe is complete without a smattering of scruffy, greasy-haired young reprobates trying to get served in “The Dog Music and Sports Bar” or rearranging the Tesco sign to say “PENIS POO” or something to that degree. Don’t cross them either – they don’t like staring! Also, one of them pushed me off a wall for no apparent reason once. I think there was a 10 ft drop – and I cracked my head.

I was once unfortunate to cross these people. They were crucifying a mate of mine for chatting up a 15-year-old and shouting “YOU PAEDOPHILE!” How old were we at the time? 16……… They also approached us outside the *****’ favourite takeaway, “Romero’s”, saying they’d (no joke) “knock our blocks off…….” Hmm, last heard that phrase in roughly junior nursery class, I estimate!!!

A Friday night outside “The Dog” is a quality place to watch the ***** kick the living Brad Pitt out of each other like a pack of hungry wolves. It makes A Clockwork Orange look like Bambi.

Fortunately, they usually don’t have a ******** bird alongside them pushing a praam with a baby called Piranha or Fiesta. The local ladies may have questionable tastes sometimes (i.e. never going for me!) but they’ve got much better taste than that! Well, most of them…

They are very sexually frustrated, I feel sorry for the poor innocent local wildlife in this rural area. No wonder the farmers get f**ked off with them!

So, “WHERE ARE THEIR MUMS AND DADS?”, the question that’s usually asked when you see these
little shitbags up to no good.

If we’re to believe the local newspaper coverage, it looks like they’re usually at the local BNP rally.

And, all of them seem to be wearing an earring – remember the phrase: “There’s only two sorts of people who wear earrings – puffs an’ pirates – AND I DON’T SEE MANY SHIPS ROUND HERE!!!!!”

Top **** spotting locations:

Town centre
– The Queen Victoria (local name “The Vic”)
– The Dog
– Clitheroe Social Club
– Romero’s takeaway
– Benches outside the library
– Any supermarket open after dark, especially Sainsbury’s car park

Other parts of town
– Virtually everywhere. Ribblesdale High School, although full of many nice, decent people, is also their breeding ground!

Further afield
– Macdonald’s, going out of town on the A59 buspass – watch out for your fellow customers!