I saw a post stating that Burscough was the ****** capital of England. Well, my friend, I present to you Lathom. Not just the ****** capital of England, Christ no, but the ****** capital of the ******* world.
About 50 people actually live there, and all of them are at least second cousins if not just flat out siblings. The whole thing consists of fields and about 3 houses, which contain all 50 of the deformed ******* holed up with about 20 in a room sharing 5 beds, living off of corn and raw beef that they’ve made themselves.
A night in one of these houses reminds me of what used to happen during Egyptian monarchies: If you’ve fucked someone, you’ve probably shared a last name since birth. Either that or they’re trying to **** their way into the Lathom hierarchy of ‘Who’s got the most kids born with some kind of chronic disease’.
I know a lad who’s got 8 kids, all of them got some kind of syndrome and won’t live past the age of 5.
There’s also about 4 times as many sheep in Lathom as there are people, if they can really be called that.
The sheep end up just as ****** and distorted as the ***** that run the place, because if all their other siblings have died from drug abuse because they were born as ******* crack babies, they resort to getting it on with the closest things that have penetrable holes.
Pretty much nobody here can afford to buy basic needs, they’ve actually got bloody WaterAID coming in and digging wells and **** because they’re having to walk (They haven’t discovered fire yet, never mind the wheel) all the way to the nearest town of comprehensible civilisation which is probably Burscough (****** but not quite as bad) to get a bucket of the ****** water from the canal, and carry it home with their fat and sweaty arms. All they eat is raw meat and corn, and various insects they find on the ground.
If I’m perfectly honest, I think it’s safe to say we can call Lathom the ******** of the Universe.
The diseased heart of darkness that is Mawdesley
Skelmersdale, there are 100s of roundabouts & subways, home to pyromaniac scousers
Mawdesley. Home to every boss you hated.
Skelmersdale: like a ripped bin bag dumped on a pristine bowling green
Enter Skelmersdale Alive… Leave With A Posthumous Medal Of Bravery
Burscough’s Bad Breeding