To the uninitiated, the name ‘Orchard Park’ probably conjures up images of a delightful leafy garden suburb in deepest Dorset. In reality however, the very utterance of these two words is likely to send most locals fleeing in abject terror. This chav infested hellhole festers like an abcess in the decaying groin of a plague victim, sending it’s scummy discharge far and wide into the city. This hideous appendage, rearing up on the northern fringe of Hull like a row of rotten teeth made national news some months back when one of it’s infamous high rises ‘Vernon House’ was systematically trashed by hoardes of baseball capped scum. TV pictures of shellsuited vermin hurling refridgerators from the 22nd floor onto the streets below were beamed around the globe and the demolision company attempting to decommission the stucture at the time, fled the scene declaring the neighbourhood the biggest s******e on the face of the earth. The tower block later caught fire and would have fallen down on it’s own accord, had it not been quickly dynamited by crack team of experts with an armed police escourt. Quite why the council didn’t see fit to kill two birds with one stone and leave the smackhead inhabitants in the building at the time remains a mystery. Nestling under the remaining high-rise horrors lies the Mecca of nightlife in this godforsaken ghetto, ‘The Rampant Horse’ public house. This is where 90% of Orchard Park residents obtain their TV’s and DVD players filched from the beseiged owner occupiers of the neighbouring well-to-do village of Cottingham and the sinisterly named ‘Ghost estate’. It’s also were fat hoopy earringed bitches from Hardane, Nashcourt and the other idiotically named streets attempt to get their leg over with Kev, the England shirted tattooed arsehole just released from Hull nick. After a quick, drunken f**k behind the dumpsters, Kev and his slag for the night, will then sally forth down Newland Avenue to beat up some students or give the odd lone asylum seeker a broken nose. They’ll then most likely end the night in a nicked car, (stolen from some poor bugger on the Avenues) and engage in a bit of egg throwing, the latest high brow craze in the city at the moment. Any dim witted, s**t for brains, kappa clad fuckwit can easily grasp the rules of this hilarious passtime. Just bravely speed past a few non-chav pedestrians and hurl various obsenties before launching a rotten egg at the people in question. Hysterical I’m sure you agree.