Ah Glossop gateway to the peak district. The spine of northern England, famed rightly for it’s breathtaking natural beauty and romantic bleakness. Just a shame such lofty heights must be reached via such a dive.
This place really does make you wonder if anywhere is safe. On the surface this place is idyllic. Lovely old houses, cobbled streets, a beautiful town square, a theatre, the worlds greatest pub (The Globe sorry for the plug) but as we all know appearences have a habit of being deceptive.
You see Glossop is not only nestled on the fothills of the Peaks but also wedged between several of the rattiest chav dens known to mankind. Pits such as Hattersly use this town as their main shopping centre, meeting place and spitoon. The town is plagued by them as they descend, each day ad night (more on that later) like burberry coloured locusts to consume Greggs pies and purchase the newest copy of Heat.
You see Glossop is one of a growing number of perfectly pleasant towns, filled with mostly hardworking people that has hell holes as satellite states. The overspills of Manchester in turn spill into Glossop turning it’s town cetre (convienently 1 straight street for ease of chav navigation) into a gauntlet of Carbrini and gob.
But it’s on a night out that Glossop really shines. Those scals unable to rob enough bus fare to descend on Staley Vegas are forced to settle for the bright lights of either Harleys or the Blues. Harleys never seems to close and is best avoided but the Blues takes the cake. This place really defiesdescription. Everyone in there knows each other making it some kind of inbred community centre, the music is composed of 3 seperate r&b tracks merged into 1 in making it sound like a line of car stereos at Max Power ride along and as for the bar prices. £4.50 for a double Scotch. In arespectable bar this is dodgy but in the Blues it really makes you wonder how much that job at JJB pays. However you could argue it provides a valuable service, not only does it give new indoctrinated scum their first, bar fight/stomach pump, but also gives Chavettes a place to find a new dad for Chardonnay.
Theres only one kebab shop and we used to say if you ever want a day off school you know where to go.