Luton vs Cheltenham

I consider myself as a bit of an authority on *****, for the simple and embarrassing fact thet I grew up in Luton. A town overrun by the horrible creatures, where you are either with them or against them… Luckily I had enough brains to realise that the townies I was surrounded by looked and sounded like total muppets but as there are very very few non-***** in Luton I had never previously come across a word to describe these strange creatures. Until, that is, I moved to university in Cheltenham and I was introduced to a whole new world. A relatively cosmopolitan place where I didn’t get abuse yelled at me in town for wearing flares.

Cheltenham is a fascinating town, containing some of the most ridiculously rich and obnoxious people in the country, as well as the most fantastically ******; The **** princess (the words mutton and lamb spring to mind) in her faux burberry cowl neck top and the various Argos pendants adorning her saggy chest, being one of my favourites; closely followed by the kappa slappa with her home perm, peroxide hair and black roots who decided she wanted to **** me outside HSBC Bank.

The thing about Cheltenham, is that the town centre is one big one-way system, much of it in two lanes, and every Sunday it has become what the Kevvy’s call ‘The Circuit’ (not that I’m sure they could spell it). It’s perfect for them to race in their beautifully modified novas, and they travel there from miles around (it must be advertised by Max Power or something). Once they get bored of this riveting activity they can park up in Cheltenham Spa coach station. Here the ********* can drape themselves over the cars and everyone can talk about how ‘safe’ everything is. To be honest ‘mate’ your car looks likes it’s stuck together with model glue, and at the speed your going, and if the sound of your exhaust is anything to go by, i’m sure it’s far from safe.

How grim is your Postcode?

I have seen too many of my friends from Luton descend into the world of kevdoom, I’m just glad I managed to escape without a baby called Chardonnay and a council flat in Marsh Farm. To a town with probably some of the funniest **** spotting I’ve come across!