On Foreshore Road (shovelling crap into their faces)
From what I can see on this site Scarborough can’t compare for chavness with Gt Yarmouth – but we’re trying.
Early in the season it’s quite amusing to watch the tracksuit-and-clunky-jewellery types wandering about with their knuckles trailing on the ground, usually with some form of nourishment clenched in their grasp. This can either be a burger made from crappy meat that has been kept warm on a hot plate for twelve hours, a huge synthetic ice-cream (the ‘Mega’ from the Harbour Bar) or the more traditional fish and chips swimming in grease with a dollop of fluoresent green mushy peas. If it ain’t saturated fat with added salt and sugar, it ain’t food.
Needless to say they are obscenely obese. The blokes wear England shirts and look as if they’d die if they tried to chase a football. The women sport the latest fashion accessory – a lardy roll of fat hanging over the ‘stretch’ trousers below the cropped top. Don’t these people ever look at themselves and see what a bloody mess they are?
As the season goes on amusement gives way to disgust as you get sick of the sight of the shaven-headed, fat, tattooed sub-humans whose spoken English is only intelligible when it’s obscene (this applies to both sexes). The smell is worse when the weather gets warmer too. And I’m not just being nasty, it’s a fact. Soap-and-water is a lifestyle choice which has been rejected.
Then you realise that when these ignorant peasants have finally clogged their last artery (consumption of endless fags goes without saying, surely) they will expect your tax money to restore them to health on the NHS. Then they won’t even have to walk – they can carry on smoking and stuffing themselves with junk from the comfort of an electric scooter.
The stag and hen parties? Off the coach into the nearest boozer then, after a couple of hours, wander around the town centre shouting filth at the top of your voices. You’re having a good time, so who cares? Carry on drinking all day then use the steets as open sewers because you haven’t got the brains or self-respect to relieve yourself properly (more likely you just can’t be arsed, it’s not your street is it?).
You can’t beat a day at the seaside.