Well, poor little “sweet” Newmarket…. Now the once racing town visited by royalty has become a breeding ground for the most unwanted of races, the *****. During the days you may see a few Burrberry (fake) caps and the odd parka but after 11, they come out to play.

11 is when Deniros finishes, the largest niteclub in East Anglia, and also the meeting ground for thousands of *****. Never will even the ***** to young to go to a niteclub will have to stay at home because during the half terms… the club decides it wants to host a ‘ Nappy Nite’.

It is then that the majority of ***** come to invade the small town. When all the ‘fun’ is over people leave and most go home…. the ***** though decide they want to stay for a bit longer and roam the highstreet glaring at unfortunate passers by. The ***** old enough to drink and drive peform ridiculous races through the main street , all are caught as the streets are patrolled by police at that time of night. Whilst the races take place, the jouniors watch in amazment taking (short and simple text language) notes in their heads and perform tricks on their flashy bikes. On performing these tricks many of the ***** are knocked out because of their ” bling bling” (much the same as worn by wiggers). The frinds of the knocked outie will then run from the seen in attempt to keep themselves out of trouble. When their ‘mate’ is awakened he/she is then mad and then hatews his/her friends. Saldy they then trudge home. Many a night are like this in Newmarket although I’m afraid my seemingly sweet town will become the capital of chavdome……

To stop, I finish with a moral, Never, EVER, wear thich gold chains, in the end you’ll get hurt.

Renowned world-wide as the heart of Horse Racing and catering to a more upperclass type of person, Newmarket’s day-time activities only scratch the surface of what the town is really like.
Viewing the High Street, a person with a careful eye can spot the scattered groups of adolescents donnign fake band hoodies and smoking joints.
At night, however, when the public clear away, the ***** come out to play.
A stroll up the High Street at around 10pm reveals a minimum of 3 groups of 10 or so bike-bound *****, who make it their business to stare threateningly, and quite amusingly, at all passers-by; occasionally swapping spots with another group. In the Rookey Shipping Centre is the largest gang., who are always there, without fail. The ones who sit on the seats and just smoke, laugh and play loud music.
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