Mytholmroyd

One upon a time in Calderdale there was a peaceful little village, which went by the name of Mytholmroyd. Everybody was friendly and everybody knew each other. The old folks bless them, could walk their dogs without any fear of somebody stopping them and asking either for bus fare or 20p. The rolling countryside of the south Pennines was a safe and secure environment where families would spend the day to go look around the famous clog factory or take a walk by the canal or sit in the little pavilion at the foot of Crag road. However this was all to change! One day there were a group of people sat in that pavilion that gave off a bad vibe. The village folk made the foolish mistake of ignoring this new species of Burberry coloured ******. As time went on, like their ****** counterparts the numbers in this species spiralled out of control, like rabbits! This species became known as the ****. (**** -Council Housed And Violent)
. Before long, the old folks could no longer venture out of their homes without fear of a **** attack. The villagers became less friendly as they knew not who to trust. Families have since stopped making the day trip to the clog factory and I’m afraid to say that the lovely pavilion which once was a meeting point for the old ladies before church became the **** headquarters. Things took a turn for the worse. Fights started breaking out, ‘gang wars’ started happening between rival village **** tribes. This species of animal is unlike anything else seen. They are far less civilised than monkeys, they feed off 10 packs of Lambert & Butler cigarettes and cans of special brew. They more often than not have a certain meeting place this usually is a park bench or bus stop. SOMETHING NEEDS TO BE DONE, AND NOW!

How grim is your Postcode?