Gillingham- The Bane of my Life

I must admit its been a while since I took a leisurely stroll through the culturally diverse Hight Street of Gillingham, Kent.  Not wanting to see huge congregations of the parasitic **** that infest the area with their aggressive monosyllabic screeches of hate!

However, today I thought what the hell, it couldn’t have got any worse!  It was with much trepidation that I entered the first-half of the High St by the train station, which I have to say the surrounding pavement outside was covered in it’s usual pockets of spit, puke and half-eaten kebabs.  Undeterred, I ventured forth.  Head down so as not to catch the eye of a hostile native!

Pass the Southern Belle.  A generation divide exists in this pub now.  During the morning and afternoon the local winos and drunks [allegedly] still prop themselves up at the bar which in the evening will be filled with younger punters.  Although the local wino “Sam” who is probably less than 5ft doesn’t give a toss and can be seen in the corner in the evening counting his pennies for another £2.50 Fosters!

Upon reaching the Britannia Pub (or The Brit as it’s known) a fight was in progress outside with two ********* pulling each others hair and calling each other “****”, “*******” and “****” etc.  I can only assume it was over the heavily tattooed man who was trying to break it up.  Why two woman would want to fight over a fat skinhead with a snake tattooed on the side of his head is beyond comprehension.

Onwards I marched.  Past the new betting shop in front of McDonalds (as if we needed another one!  Thanks Medway Council!) where I heard a heavily pregnant native tell her unruly young daughter “Mercedes f*cking come ere will ya, for ***** sake!”.  I’d like to think in this meritocratic society that this little sprog has a hope in hell but lets face it!  She’s gonna have a bun-in-the-oven at 15 and be given council accommodation!  Her boyfriend will probably be called Dwayne or Tyrone etc who by this time will be staying at Her Majesty’s pleasure.

Past the CO-OP. Gotta get past the plethora of buggies pushed by the single mums.  More spit on the ground.  Here I was accosted by a drunk asking me if I had any change and when I replied I didn’t called me a ****.

Walking past 99p Store and a girl with another buggie (this time Dwayne/Tyrone) is with her!) goes past with one of those pleb handheld radios that’s all the rage right now in Medway.  Out of it’s speaker spewed what I can only describe as some sort of drum ‘N bass or “Micky Finn”.  Micky Finn has a lot to answer for!

Past the relatively new pub called Edge on the corner of the second half of the High St now. The only Edge I’d be worried about on a Saturday night is the one on a pint glass or ashtray as it hurtles towards me!  It’s only the afternoon, so the older winos are pensively staring into their pint glasses before the younger generation swarm in later after 7 O’ Clock.

By this time it’s all becoming too much but bravely I push onwards.  Past Budgens.  More spit.  More buggies.  More teen mums.  More *****!

In conclusion.  It’s worse than ever.  Gillingham is a cesspit of despair and a tragedy of what happens when the welfare state is so generous that people are better off claiming rather than working and thus abuse it!  People years ago were proud of calling themselves working class because they worked and provided for themselves with minimum help from the State and were proud of this.  We now have a generation of underclass **** who respect no-one, get pissed-up, take drugs, abuse innocent people, attack innocent people and think that the State and the rest of society owes them something!  Oh well, it could be worse.  I could be living in Chatham…………………………

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