Have you ever walked through a town for several minutes before realising that everyone in it has the same facial features?
Yes; everyone in Coleford is related. Brothers marry sisters, uncles marry nieces and I believe there is even a chap named Dave who married his favorite pet sheep. To say the gene pool is a little shallow in this part of Gloucestershire would be an understatement.
And to add insult to injury, not only are the locals f**k ugly, so is their town. It looks like a cross between the set of a zombie apocalypse movie and a gulag in deepest Siberia.
The town is not without its attractions however. Tourists flock from far and wide to see the ‘clock tower’, a slowly crumbling pile of stone which acts as a urinal for the local alcoholics.
There is also a pub which, as the locals will tell you in their charmingly difficult to understand dialect, is ‘fockin ‘aunted mind’.
Aside from these two admittedly enticing local landmarks, the town unfortunately has little else to offer (aside from a plethora of STD’s and an inviting smell of something I can only describe as ‘vegetably’).
So in summary, I would advise that if you are considering moving to Coleford that you consider living in a cardboard box on the streets of Baghdad first, its probably a little safer and even if you do not speak Arabic, you will most likely be able to understand the locals better than in Coleford.