Lowestoft, the boil on the **** of Britain

If you want to see how bad ********** can get, then come here. It makes the characters in the film Deliverance look like members of Mensa.

Visit the industrial town centre and all you see are huge fat ******* pushing their buggies, chewing gum, and smoking a ***. Waddling about in lycra stretched to capacity and stinking of Vag and Go. The boyfriend of the day dragging behind, probably because of the webbed feet, baseball cap on backwards with the obligatory Pit Bull or Staffie. Both covered in tattoos and shouting into their new mobiles. If there was ever a case for culling, this is it.

The town itself is totally devoid of niceties, the town centre resembles a war zone, and stinks of sewerage. It is dirty, totally lacking in any coherent design and traffic wise is total gridlock. Residents wander into the road with total abandon, how any of them reach old age is beyond me. For this place, fine dining means a trip to McDonalds or KFC.

The shops are staffed by rude pondlife who either lie to avoid making any effort, or totally ignore you chatting on their mobile phones to the next shag of the evening, or where they are going to get their next piercing or tattoo.

Locals have no interest in learning or betterment, only seeking to breed. Trying to get any work done is impossible, they either don’t turn up, or don’t reply. All they are interested in is enough money for the next tattoo or mobile phone. Most have never been out of the town, which says it all. Any reference to the outside World is met with a blank stare – as are any words longer than 3 letters. Plankton have a higher IQ.

I just hope that the sea will invade this place and wash the whole lot back to where they came from.

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