Mablethorpe – the land that time forgot

Living in Mablethorpe, Lincolnshire

On recent terrible trip the Lincolnshire town of Mablethorpe I was horrified at the down trodden class of trollops that are attracted to the town. I discovered a large proportion of sink-hole estate vest wearing, roll-up smoking, tattooed unemployable empty heads who were swearing their heads off at every opportunity.

Flatulence was the main mode of communication. They were sitting outside some pub who was advertising an egg and bacon fry-up with a pint at 10am in the morning for £4.50! I mean who the hell does that? There were dossers and drunks and vacant faced simpletons everywhere along with an array of fake war veterans and their emaciated dogs.

I was further horrified by some loud mouthed roll-up smoking female covered in tattoos with hair like fuse wire, screaming across the street to her friend “Debbie, I’m just going for a wee”! Yes this just about sums Mablethorpe up.

How grim is your Postcode?

There are no adequate car parks, one has to park in the street where one is likely to have ones car damaged by the local knuckle dragging Neanderthals that haunt the enclave.

It is apparent that the local authorities are [allegedly] prepared to do absolutely nothing financially to assist the ghastly place and hence why it attracts the lower echelons of society.