A good lancing is what the infestation of c***s in this place deserve. With the exception of the northern parts of Lancing, this is a mecca for c***s. Think 13 year old single mothers with accents that would seem coarse in Romford. Think groups of kids in Reebok Classics and baseball caps booting footballs at passing cars and buses. This is a place where Burberry is the height of fashion. It’s full of Essex wannabees, the kind of s**m that you wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. Argos gold is the Lancing bling. For a sound beating by some inbred freaks try the Farmers pub or risk venturing in to Tower road (second only to Najaf for scenes of urban destruction) or the delightful Mash Barn estate where peoples mothers are also their aunts. It may be only a rumour but apparently the US marines pulled out of Central Lancing due the downing of a Black Hawk by a stray football.