Once a lovely village in Cheshire, Partington, located on the outskirts of Manchester, had the potential to be a great family town.
Surrounded by miles of fields and meadows, it’s hard to believe when roaming the local countryside what actually lies a few yards down the road.
Partington is split into three estates, the worst being the Oak Rd estate (this was built to house the inner Manchester overspill) where the ever-common teenage mothers and (if actually present) alcy fathers roam the streets creating something which looks like a real life Resident Evil. Seen as every house has either been bricked or is vacant, the window cleaner has now decided that doing his round with a sander would probably be more beneficial.
The only pub in Partington where you don’t have to be a member is situated on Oak Road; The Redbrook (nicknamed The ‘Dead’brook) offers chav style lagers such as Eingerbrau (might be spelt wrong) at competitive prices, so not to waste their entire giro in one night. The pub also offers live entertainment every evening, which usually involves two pissed up twats mastering the art of how to cut off someone’s arm (this has happened on several occasions, and one chap had his arm blew off at point blank range with a shotgun). Pubs and takeaways have been forced to shut, due to local drug lords being insulted for no reason at all.
Those who actually decided to earn an honest living can be found at the local paintworks, where Im certain most of them only work there as the wretched stench is almost certain to give you a free high if you inhale enough.
Fighting has now evolved in the town and as stated previously, all the local scally s***s now roam the street with knives, congregating in and around their nova’s and corsa’s outside the bargain booze, with one chap riding up and down the street on a mini motorbike or a quad. You pray that someone will ‘accidentally’ fail to hit their brake when these dickheads weave in and out of traffic in an attempt to ‘woo’ their underage chavettes. Needless to say, they succeed at every opportunity.
The graffiti in the local centre is highly amusing, as the local scallies inform the community of their spelling capabilities. Passages such as ‘Partington Soliders’ can be seen scrawled all over the shopping centre.
As the town is situated in the middle of nowhere, getting out of the place is a nightmare. You have three buses, the 252, 255 and the 247, all of which stink of piss with seat’s torn and thrown on the floor. I don’t blame the local bus services for not replacing these, as there is no point what so ever, it would just be a total waste of money and im sure they don’t value the little service the council is prepared to offer.
Listening to the chavette’s on the bus is hilarious, I remember one saying ‘I’m too young to have a baby, I want to wait until im at least 19!!’
The 247 buses give scallies the opportunity to visit other bargain boozes in the Trafford area, and they regularly arrange full-scale daytrips to a little town called Flixton. The 247 bus is therefore responsible for a whole new breed of chavs, and they can now be sighted legging it down the street followed by angry Bargain Booze staff attempting to retrieve the two three litre bottles of cider stolen just minutes earlier. Infact, the chavs of Flixton are a completely new species, crossbred and mutated if you like. Living on a diet of “diddlies”, washed down nicely with the perfect compliment of White Lightning or Diamond White, but if they fail to find a granny worth mugging, bong water does suffice. The chavs of Flixton are a true mutation of society and are sure to evolve into a demonic form should they be given the chance.
It wouldn’t surprise me if these local modern day Bethlehem’s were to be twinned with towns such as Beirut, Basra and Baghdad. A complete s**t hole and I feel sorry for the small percentage of honest working citizens being condemned to the reputation that goes with living there.