I have found myself living in the seaside town of Portslade for nearly a year now. After commuting down here for work, I thought why not get a nice little place by the sea, where I can unwind in the fresh air after a hard day in the office….
WHAT A BLOODY MISTAKE! Portslade is the culmination of a number of problems; easy access to a port means that a plethora of drugs are available for the not-so-discerning Portsladian. This, coupled with the allure of cheap booze sold in one of the towns many many off licenses, leads to a maelstrom of peasants, meandering around the streets in broad daylight, off their faces and in our’s.
Portslade is lacking in NHS dental care, thus its population have mouths akin to a bucket of smashed crab shells. The copious consumption of rolling tobacco also leaves their hands an off yellow colour, like dog sick. But they do have this overbearing sense of self importance, which often leaves me scratching my head in despair.
Portslade is quite obviously the breeding ground for Saurons new army, and thus I would avoid it like the plague. Funny thing is, most people here look like they are in the final stages of the black death.
Yuck yuck yuck.