Reading – it’s the home of some great characters

I’m not going to go into everything that makes Reading the worst town ever, but here’s my top three ladies and gentlemen.

Firstly, the high street.
It’s like every single person who owns a guitar in the world has decided Reading high street is the new Glastonbury. Hey, let just set up a great stonking microphone and boom out my badly written lyrics while everyone quivers trying to get past.
As for the rapper guy which the girls of Reading seem to crawl over, ladies I promise you he’s not worth your time. (I’m not promoting him, but walking past him and hearing his rather fittingly written:
‘Welcome to Reading where the weather is mild, and every teen that has a child ends up on Jeremy Kyle. Welcome to Reading where the women are dressed in the least as possible but always look their best,’
I couldn’t help but want to give him a clap on the back. And yes, I did look up the lyrics online. I mean, its practically my personal anthem)

Secondly – reading at night is the worst thing I have ever experienced. Coming home from said night when you have attempted to dine in the fine cuisine of Reading’s downright – dare I say it – **** selection of pizza places and half arsed attempts at making a bar looking classy, you can expect to bump into some real characters.

How grim is your Postcode?

The time I walked down smelly alley and random man leers near me. ‘Oh yeeeeeeeees. I like them malnourished,’ he says. Malnourished? What?

Or the guy who asked me where the strip club was, got nervous talking to me and then ripped up his strip club bonus voucher ticket. He then had a go at me for making him nervous and ripping it up. And what about the time I walked past Kings Meadow (another hotspot for stoners with too much time on their hands) and see, random naked man juggling? I mean seriously Reading.

And thirdly, Primark – I suggest you do not bother. I cannot think of enough expletives to describe that place. It’s like a warzone. The people in there are just as bad – I would like to thank the little old lady who told me I ‘looked like a pea with a drum,’ when I tried on a hat. Whatever that means, I shall never know. What I do know is that if your looking for a place of class, don’t come to Reading. Stay far, far away, and quiver in fear.