Hatfield. The town that God made when he was having a ******* bad day.
Approaching Hatfield, you have an unending vista of 60’s cheap council housing with the occasional tower block thrown in for good measure. Simply put, Hatfield has no soul. The town centre is built especially to cater for *****, with numerous pound shops, a New Look and various ****** cafes, all crowned with the lovely ASDA, where ********* push around their scroaty, screaming children (all called Jayden or Kayleigh) on weekdays. There is also the Galleria (locally known as the Gonhorrea) where you can buy all manner of ****-branded produce from various bespoke outlets. The ***** never venture onto the upper floor, (where there are some reasonable shops, including a Waterstones) except to spit on those below. The Gonhorrea is specially designed with poorly lit areas all around so that the ***** can mug you at every given opportunity.

Apart from the endless estates and the isolated cultural area of Old Hatfield, that is about it…apart from the University of Hertfordshire. Students are forced to use the ****** student bars, not out of choice, but more due to the fact that if they venture off-campus they are liable to get mugged. All the locals hate them, for daring to get an education. They are seen as “toffs” and therefore, naturally all gay.

There is a good part to Hatfield though. When they built the motorway, they put it through a tunnel under the town, so you can pass through quickly without having to experience this ****-hole!

How grim is your Postcode?

A doomed ******** of a town where 1/3rd of the population are students and the rest are unemployed.

All children are raised by their welfare families to hate anyone who is either better than them, or is attempting to better themselves. This starts at an early age where large groups of children, usualy under 10yrs old, are encorraged to chase any non-**** types they find and attack them with hammers ( personal experience )

Although its mostly the men who are at risk, i have a few female friends who were also beaten up by the local men.

The local hangouts include the usual maccy dee’s and TK Maxx / JJb sports for the high quality clothing, and anywhere with streetlights.

The Galleria, the local built-above-a-motorway shopping centre *** cinema is usually packed with **** from noon, when the ***** normally surface from their smack dens, untill late when they visit the assorted bars.

Most people working at the various shops tend to be the local students who are either too dumb, too hard, or too poor to do anything else.

The cinema features a lovely escalator system, much like the two tiered galleria, that allows ***** to stand and spit at anyone within distance.

Although this entry might not be too funny, ive read better, the real situation is not funny.
I wish mr blunkett would open his eyes, no pun intended, and realise that the biggest threat to our nation is not from terrorists but from the **** crawlling out of the gutters. Okay, so im now safe from biological attack, but who is going to save me from the ***** ******* who break into my house and mug me just to spend it on gold earrings and ****** tartan caps? fuckrags!