The late great Rik Mayall once called Nottingham ‘a dark Godless void on the edge of human misery’, which exactly correlates with my feelings about Forth in Lanarkshire, Scotland. Cumbernauld’s little but equally-as-ugly little brother.
Granted, it is a village – but hell is it depressing. A grey and moribund carbuncle on the ****-end of Scotland miles from civilisation and about as welcoming and friendly as a **** in a spacesuit. I had the misfortune to spend a few days there a few years ago (work related), and I think that inserting bleach into my **** cavity would have been a better way to have spent my time.
Apart from the grim grey exterior of a run down council estate that would not look out of place in Colditz, there are the unfriendly locals. If you’re not from round there, don’t even bother trying to engage in conversation as you will be gawped at as if you are a Martian.
The residents range from angry old people visibly flustered that the Grim Reaper has overlooked them, to young delinquents and single mums on benefits chugging Buckfast. Their gormless offspring can dream of one day becoming a Scottish version of Kerry and Kurtan from ‘This Country’ if they are very lucky.
You can understand the anger and frustration as there is sod all there – a football pitch, a shop and a road on which you are advised to either go back to Glasgow or Edinburgh if you value humanity and the human spirit. There’s not even a pub to drown your sorrows in – it is literally just a road and a housing estate with enticing names like ‘Clogands’. More like a Bogland in my opinion!
The weird thing is that the locals actually value living there and every year they hold a procession through the village. I happened to see the yearly one when I was there and it is what the word ‘Naff’ was invented for. It is naffness itself (check out the videos of them on You Tube, you will crease yourself to think that in the 21st century that this could pass for entertainment) the only thing needed to complete it is Zippy from Rainbow reciting Macbeth whilst pissed on a bottle of Famous Grouse.
Avoid. At. All. Costs