Redhill-I hate it
Redhill-I hate it
It’s been a couple of months since anyone’s done this place. I’ve been working here for 2 and a bit years. I’d previously worked in croydon for nearly 4 years, hated it, thought Redhill might be a nice, peaceful change of scenery. Images of a green, picturesque Middle England market sprung to mind. F**k, was I wrong?
The first thing that strikes you when getting out of your car/alighting the train, is that the whole town reeks of pigshit, no kidding! Driving into town is a wonderful experience, I drive in from Kent. On the way in, I drive through lovely villages such as Westerham, Godstone and Bletchingley. On approaching Redhill, the skies darken, the air grows ripe with the odour of s**t. At the top of Redstone Hill is a sign for Redhill Town Centre, under which sits a blind, Burberry clad chav kid playing duelling banjos on his “mobly”. However , the full horror of what you’ve driven into doesn’t hit till you emerge from under the railway bridge to be face with a s**t roundabout, with McDonalds on the other side. Once parked, you have to then wade through up turned rubbish bins and christ knows what else to get to where you’re going. The council have recently started redoing the whole centre, and to be fair it’s looking ok, but I give the new trees about 2 months, and the paving is already covered in piss, puke and s**t. The council need sort out the inhabitants before they start on the architecture.
The “people” have the usual slack jawed expression that you’d except from a bunch of f*****g inbred hillbillies, or Redhillbillies as me and my associates are known to call them. F*****g pigshit ignorant doesn’t even describe them fully enough. When they open they’re burgerholes, out comes some of the most moronic, strange and slightly threatening sounds that have ever been heard by man. Most of the local chavs, especially the younger ones, walk up and down Station Road and the High Street yelling and grunting at the top of their voices to the chav who is walking next to them. I swear to God that I’ve never once worked out what they’re “saying”. Just walking from work to Sainsburys is enough to drive me to the top of the nearest belltower with a bren gun, the noise of chavspeak drives me mad, I imagine neanderthal man made more sense than this.
Favourite hangouts, or rather places I avoid where possible, seem to be:
the covered section in front of Sainsburys-here they lounge around on the benches, smoking and spitting, hurling abuse at passersby, and consuming large amounts of cheap and nasty alcohol.
Burger King and McDonalds-self explanatory, even chavs like to dine out.
The alleyway besides the newsagents-there’s some land round here where the younger chavs like to go and smoke , drink, tag bins/backdoors with indecipherable logo’s and messages such as RM is a neek (what the f**k is a neek?) and Joe C is a c**t (probably). They also seem to mate down there.
Sex seems to start when they’re about 12, I can’t blame them, there’s nothing else to do in this place especially as they can’t get into the pubs until they’re at least 14. The pubs are a complete no-go area, there’s not 1 pub worth going into, this is the 1st time I’ve been to a town for any length of time that has no decent boozers. Unthinkable. I can’t really comment on the pubs as I have only been in about 3 of them once. But , needless to say I would be going to any of them ever again. They have all the charm of a romantic evening with Jordan. F**k all.
I’m trying my hardest to get a job well away from here, because much more of this place and I’ll be turnig vigilante, and picking off chavs indisciminately along Station Road. Unfortunately, I live 4 miles from Dartford (my nearest shopping town), and 2 miles from Bluewater, so I’m fucked anyway you look at it. In fact I may be soon submitting a piece on these shortly!