Potters Bar: words almost fail me describing this hole of despair

Words almost fail me when it comes to describing Potters Bar. I had the misfortune of having to work here for 2 years, and when I think back to the harrowing experiences that went through here I find a black cloud of depression descending on me, that only a valium and double scotch can ease.

Many people will be familiar with the name from the tragic train crash that happened here, an event that I myself witnessed. But I am sad to say that I was more traumatised by the behaviour of the indigenous populace, the sheer bovine stupidity of the residents of this town planning nightmare of a town. A small, yet tasteful memorial garden was established nearby as a tribute to those who lost their lives in the crash – it took just one week before this garden was used as a public urinal by the local kids, and only another 4 weeks until it had become something closely resembling a landfill site.

How I recall the way my heart sank as the train pulled into the station, not before giving me a view from the railway bridge of the den of iniquity that is Darkes Lane. The first thing you will see is the ubiquitous Drive-Thru (sic) McDonalds, compulsory c**v rendez-vous. I remember a time when crossing the road to avoid the inevitable taunts and witless comments from the spotty, malnourished urchins ******* around outside the aforementioned fast food outlet, only to happen upon a slightly older bunch of c***s (at least 16 years of age) mercilessly taunting and physically abusing a clearly distressed Staffordshire bull terrier, presumably to ‘get its blood up’ for the purposes of attacking unfortunate passers-by for the twisted amusement of these c***s. When a pensioner quite rightly reprimanded these young gentlemen and threatened to call the RSPCA she was met with a torrent of abuse and menaced with a dog chain by the larger of these charming specimens of humanity.

Whenever I’m heading on the Eastbound on the M25 and I catch a glimpse of Potters Bar from the safe vantage point of my car I find myself still wincing in pain at the unhappy memories I have of this God-forsaken place.
Right, where’s the scotch?

UPDATE 2017 – I did not write this article but I do live here. The people of this town are some of the most ignorant people I have ever seen. Rude, unkind, you name it. The council is more than happy to put on a “music festival” but somehow can’t find the money to fix it’s potholes. If you are under the age of 60, this town is not for you. It’s overrun by old people. I hate old people. The bus and train station is poorly organised. Taxi drivers who don’t know what brakes are, the narrow little road they have to park in and the constant traffic around the immediate area is shocking. They can’t just move the station but the layout of that road could surely be better.

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