North Devon – Don’t do it!

Living in North Devon, Combe Martin and Ilfracombe
Living in North Devon, Combe Martin and Ilfracombe

North Devon – Don’t do it!

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If you were thinking of moving to your over-priced dream North Devon property for a new life, then read on. Unfortunately everybody else had the same idea. Chopsy Brummies, cockneys, scousers, incompetent caterers, useless Pub landlords, and robbing shysters, have settled their fat arses down here already. Sorry about that. Devon isn’t paradise, it’s Sheffield and Birmingham on Sea, where the local westcountry suppliers and businesses are all waiting to rip you off. We do have Lidl, but you’ll not like the prices down here.

Tucked away in a corner of North Devon, is the village of Combe Martin, once a sleepy, unspoiled area of outstanding beauty on the edge of Exmoor. Now a charmless townie dump with a crap Post Office, it’s become infested by ‘orrible Brummies and Grockles from hell with all their antisocial habits, and three mangy mutts each. The region really does have the worst that Britain has to offer; in fact the drunken yobs that used to go to Benidorm have started coming here instead.

You’ll get run over by retarded drivers every day, or surrounded by fat ignorant yobs with bad breath, or you’ll find yourself on the local minibus service with fifty smelly tourists and dogs. So do yourselves a favour and move somewhere else. Not to Ilfracombe though, that’s even worse; even s*****r and even more antisocial. Even Damien Hirst sacked it, but at least it’s got a decent bus service.

Combe Martin is only open for the half the year (that’s those that bother opening at all). And very few of the new resident townies use the village shops and pubs, that’s because the village doesn’t have a Tesco’s or a Wetherspoons to accommodate all the whiny ankle biters, yapping hounds, and lardy alcoholics.

But we do have plenty of visitors and new residents falling out of the top Pub at 2.00 AM as they’ve done for years, all screeching, vomiting, vandalising and urinating their way down Combe Martin High Street. On top of all that, they insist on coming back. If that’s your thing, come on down!

Listen – if you still insist on giving up your nice life and your sanity to live the North Devon fantasy, just don’t do it.


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