Langney- the place where ***** are born

Welcome to Langney, like the desert in many ways… desolate, hostile, strange creatures (******) are the only inhabitants… yet unlike the desert, ‘LANGNAAAYYY’ is about as beautiful as the shaved **** of dog in season.
True, it may not have the greatest **** population, but this isn’t the **** ‘blingin’ hotspot, it’s the **** ‘me mam sent me to pick up the giro’ sorespot. This may give you a vague idea of the crapness of Langney.
The Langney centre has a massive car park, totally useless as it’s thigh deep in litter and so full of **** souped/cocked up Fords that you can’t move anyway.
Moving on to the inside… there is a library mainly containing books trés risqué in uh.. the 1920s, a Mackays, shops selling the cheapest tack you can imagine (and more), some fast food stores and there may be more but this is as far as I went before turning tail and fleeing. There is also a market. You have no idea of the horrors, they are the kinds of things that would cost you thousands in therapy in later life (if you have a life, which i don’t). Gaggles of ******, gangstas and ***** (can you see a difference?) surround you on every side; on the left there are pools of puke from the fun the night before and on the right a caravan selling meat smelling almost as putrescent. -Don’t forget the other stalls though, there is everythingyour average **** could want, cheap and very nasty.
If there is one thing that I would say to a new-comer in Langney it’s this: leave.

How grim is your Postcode?