Heywood, what can I say? It’s a little backwater town that resembles one big council estate. People who don’t live here have never heard of it,this is either a good thing or just plain embarrassing. The town centre has more pubs than it does shops and of course, one of them is a weatherspoons, which is full from opening in the morning with crusty old unemployed men and woman who don’t go home until they’re thrown out. At the weekend however all the local youth are out in full force all over the main drag like a mardi gras parade.
Don’t get me wrong it has its good points, there’s primary schools and they stick all the undesirable kids in the biggest one. I can hear the shriek of the fat lazy giro collecting mother of the darn hill estate, as they scream at their offspring, one in a pram and 3 behind her whilst she smokes a cig and talks on the phone. The back o’th moss mother isn’t as stupid, she left her kids at home to fend for themselves whilst shes gone for a pint at one of the pubs.
The one feature of Heywood that stays with you long after you have left, is the pungent aroma from the land fill that neighbours it. So in future when someone ask where you live, either don’t tell them or just say the little town near Rochdale and Bury that stinks of ****.
Wigan – where hell once froze over… and then it rained constantly
Ashton under lyne, into the mouth of madness and straight out of the other end
Farnworth used to be a nice place to live in the 60/70’s
Saddleworth is not Yorkshire and you’re not Alan Sugar
Mossley, home of the ‘Who’s got the most toes competition’
Levenshulme: The Great Scally-Hipster War
Reddish: The Ghetto of Greater Manchester
Salford…from a foreigner’s perspective.
Oldham – Drugs, Grooming and early death