Combe Martin is a Devonshire bumpkin village and small “seaside resort” (apparently), about 4 miles east of Ilfracombe in North Devon. There are very few Devonians left in this c**v town, where the average age is 0-18 or over 60; anyone else who wants a normal life ‘gets the hell out of Dodge’, and lets in Midlanders taking the piss.
Famous for its drunks epidemic and bolshie Brummies infestation, hundreds of dogs, and the unusually long street running for 2 miles along the valley village: Combe Martin is known for its pram c***s, dog mess, and for tripping over gormless overweight grockels (tourists) descending on the place, pissing the locals off for half the year by roaming the streets pissed til 3 AM.
What’s it really like here? The Cafes are s**t but it could be worse, it could be Barnstaple. Plenty of houses are for sale on Combe Martin’s High Street, mainly because it’s the main thoroughfare for antisocial chronic alcoholics and retards with behavioural problems, all [allegedly] staggering to and from the two late pubs at the top of the village.
During the day, sensible locals prefer to cycle or drive through Combe Martin, avoiding aggressive teen mothers with double buggies blocking the footpaths, and retarded grossly overweight tourists tramping up and down the High Street all day with their twin dogs and half-wit teenagers in tow. Unfortunately, the gormless bastards are allowed on the local buses.
If you’re not convinced: there is also the annual carnival, when the “Combe Martians” get drunk, again, and have a fight, take drugs, or beat up their partner. If you want to move here and take the piss, a few months training in Wetherspoons and a bolshie Birmingham accent will see you right. Estate agents [that we can’t mention or allude to] (Ilfracombe) are waiting to take your calls. All you need to be is stupid enough to believe the hype, and to think you’ll have a marvellous time away from the West Midlands. You f*****g mug.