RockBok Heaven daan the QC wiv yaz and trish
Peterborough is a monstrous city. Proudly listed in the Idler Guide to Crap Towns, it is famous for having a cathedral and being next to a big road.
The Cathedral brings tourism and culture, whereas the road brings an incessant supply of scummy f**kers. Legend has it that Peterborough is the birthplace of the Rockport and Reebok combination, now used across the land by all scallies. Affectionately known as RockBoks by the local laydeez from the Welland Estate, this clothing partnership is of course coupled with as much legit burberry as one can wear, and more gold than… a gold bar.
The Queensgate Centre is the hub of all chavic activity, providing a safe place to harrass innocents, smoke sterlings and eat McDonalds. The QC has the finest selection of stores in the local area, with favourites being Argos, House of Leather and Foot Locker.
Amusingly, Peterborough’s Cathedral is a renowned haunt for herion dealers and prostitues! Reliable sources have said that heroin is cheaper in Peterborough than most places in the UK, making it like a national distribution centre for skag.
The nigthlife is predictable. “The Strip” provides Pboro with a plethora of big name pub/club chains such as Wetherspoons, Edwards, O’neills and Yates’s. All employ strict townie dress codes ensuring that anything normal gets nowhere near the door.
“Sorry mate, only dragon print shirts tight fitting jeans and Base shoes on Fridays”
I could probably go on about this forever, but I’ll bore you the shittty details. Thank god I live 9 miles out of all of this puke.
A trip to Peterborough is a must for any dedicated C**v Spotter.
Sadly one still remembers the days when decent folk were in the majority, how things change…
Things have been going downhill slowly for many years and now I have found a likeminded community of people who feel the same way.
Take the other Saturday for example – one had wandered into the city centre for a spot of shopping before the new fox hunting season started. So far so good one must be thinking – the entire experience of shopping was ruined by a plague of c***s.
One’s ears were assaulted by the harsh ‘boro accents of the Shawanas & Tamaras who attempted to run one’s feet over with the grubby buggys containing their welfare supported brat (no doubt called Brooklyn or some other highfalutin forename) whilst you found your eyes dazzled by the sun glinting off the fake gold jewellry which was preventing them from standing upright!
One is still in shock from the menfolk of these fine citizens – the tracksuits, the gold sovereign rings, the greasy hair, the badly dyed hair, the same common accent and the multi-coloured trainers. As they clutched their copies of The Sun with an L & B hanging from their lips.
Sadly these specimens are not limited in their stamping ground to the City Centre – they have been spotted in once respectable suburbs and even in once classy country pubs. So far a few venues (which shall remain nameless for security purposes) have remained immuned from the great vest wearing unwashed….
If this is the future of the Peterborough population one hopes that one can raise enough cash to emigrate. For now allow my rattled nerves to calm down over a large glass of scotch and a browse of The Field. I shall clean my shot gun and ready myself for the start of the fox hunting season.
Peterborough, or Pikeyborough as I fondly refer to is, is fast becoming the C**v capital of the UK. It has always had a high density of (fake) Burberry-wearing, chain-smoking, Elizabeth Duke at Argos adorned teenage parents but since the house prices in London went ballistic we have attracted a whole new breed of “mockney-c***s” from ‘daaan saaaf’.
There are McDonalds a-plenty and the Boongate Drive-thru is a favourtite haunt of ‘just passed me driving test’ Trevs in their souped up Novas, Escorts and Fiesta XR2’s.
Peterborough is home to Emap and boasts offices for Max Power and Revs magazine. They hold gatherings in local car parks and perform burn-outs and see who could play their stereo the loudest to get pictures for the high class mags!
Peterborough is home to several ‘sink estates’ where c***s can compare council benefits, babies and “top class” clothing and drive around in their Trev-mobiles. Argos is the most popular store, and car-booting is the number one passtime!
The Tesco supermarket in the city centre is a particular hang-out, especially for c***s to buy their fags and cider with their social money on a Thursday. You can hear the screaches of the young girls with huge hoop earrings and Kappa shellsuits as they try to round up their hoards of snotty nosed kids – “Jordan, Britney, Levi, Sean-Paul f’kin c’m ‘ere or I’ll f’kin give ya a hidin’..”
Although the market in the town centre is fairly small there are two large markets at Whittlesey and Wisbech which are a C**v paradise.
Just lask week I saw a white lad of about 18 yrs wearing a white Fubu shellsuit and matching beany hat – and it wasn’t for a joke or a fancy dress party!
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