Hailed as a cultural mecca by the [allegedly] corrupt city Council, the toon (Newcastle) is not somewhere a sentient being would go to make a pilgrimage. The culture largely consists of some big buildings covered in pigeon ****. Yes, there are universities, but the only locals they contain are cleaning the toilets.
Meet the Locals
Far better to interact with them at St James’s Park. The toon army will congregate readily here to worship overpaid foreigners hoofing a pigs ladder and losing badly. Occasionally a geordie will be on the team and keep the bench lovely and warm for the rest. If your dream is to be subjected to red faced overweight men wedged into unflattering black and white garments ranting incoherently while swigging booze and eating a pie, congratulations.
For the more discerning visitor, a trip on the metro (should it actually arrive) will enable them to interact with the locals on a one to one level. Prepare to be personal spaced, run over by buggies and hassled by a plethora of inexplicably grey men on crutches with no teeth. Get through that and marvel at their female companions who will be crying and screaming while drinking a 2 litre bottle of frosty Jack’s and calling you a **** for not giving them a couple of quid.
The younger ones are less grey skinned, but all have the same feral expression on their whey faces with angry little piggy eyes. It’s like looking into the abyss, if the abyss was on universal credit and smoked weed 24/7. These delights are generally screeching, spitting or kicking the windows while resplendent in one size fits no one clothing.
The Ladies of Newcastle
If female, this generally consists of being wedged into something from primark, or urban outfitters if you are really posh and your parents benefits aka ‘pay’ have arrived. The shorts must be nearly non existent to show off cellulite and streaky fake tan and the crop top/vest must show rolls of flesh or ribs.
The Men of Newcastle
If male, you must spit, pick your nose and wear grey trackies. They will either be too short and tight because you shoplifted the wrong size or loose so you can get your hands down the front at any time. Failing this both genders sometimes favour the I made it through Jurassic Park style clothing in which great swathes of goose-pimply unwashed geordie flesh oozes out.
So, if you like the sound of this please visit, or take my advice, just don’t….