Jesus Christ, where to begin!
Hmm, I used to live in Crosby but I was forced further down the road to live here due to ridiculous house prices. Luckily I lived in a quiet Cul De Sac in Seaforth where no scallies had any reason to enter, however, a brisk walk round to the shops up by Rossini Street would change everything. Old slappers in pink pyjamas, even in the late afternoon, little rat boys on BMX’s threatening to kill people if they wouldnt go into the “offy”, the shop would be populated by scally knobheads saying “yer p**i, i gave yer a twenty” then persecuting his English wife for being a “P**i shagger”.
Further up the road there is a “scally sufficiency zone” on the way to the train station. This consists of the Post Office, scally infested at 9.00 am – why the f**k do they get up so early? – they’ve got all day to sit off and then cash their money. There is a bookies and bargain booze, also a greasy spoon cafe that is only populated on giro day, they should only open up once a fortnight to save on overheads.
Rossini Street and Croxteth has the highest population of scallies and neaderthals ever, Rossini Street is the home to the Seaforth Castle pub, the roughest arsehole pub in this end of Liverpool, coke snorting scallies doing it off the bar and all the windows are boarded up, it also has some weird plastic piped lights that were used in a school disco in the 80’s. It is never ever full for some weird reason, the owner of the Red Lion who was in the paratroopers and is a boxing coach says he would never venture in there in fear of getting killed, enough said!.
Croxteth Street looks like the set of Black Hawk Down, loads of shite littered all over the place, people wandering round the streets with f all to do and staring at anyone who dares to venture down the street either on foot or in a car, add to the fact that it backs onto a railway line which is perfect for ASBO seeking fare dodgers looking to harass fare paying innocent people. A helicopter normally hovers over the area at night recreating the Black Hawk Down effect. Give them their due, they do know how to enjoy themselves, they can be seen outside their scruffy battered houses in the summer drinking stella on pub stools they have robbed from nearby pubs, nearest one is the railway which was boarded up until recently. Ma Kents is a craphole, with Lacoste wearing skinheads drinking their dole money outside on the steps whatever the weather, the other hand is normally down their tracky or on a borrowed mobile (as normally they never have any credit)
Up the road is the Saltbox or “Salty” – more like the “Assaulty”, my brother was in there when he saw a Chinese guy in there selling DVD’s, the scalls went outside and beat him up, robbing the DVD’s, they all s**t a brick when my brother told them tht they had robbed off a Chinese snakehead and that they would be back to cut their hands off.
The one good thing about Seaforth is that “Secrets” has been knocked down, this was a truly god awful place full of knobheads who wanted to start fights and wear tracky bottoms on a night out. As it was only 50p to get in it was well within a layabouts reach and the past the sell by date ale was only 80p a bottle. My ex mate always used to go there cos he was permanently on the dole and pulled some absolute mingers, I wonder how he got out though as the carpets were never ever cleaned and everyone stuck to the floor. I wish I had been about when it was getting knocked down, I would have sped up the process.
They have also turned the white house or whatever the f**k it was called pub over the road into a KFC but maintained the building to “keep a bit of character”, these people would probably love to turn St. Geoges Hall into a McDonalds or Burger King.
Bootle is even worse than Seaforth, the Merton pub is full of scally Ben sherman/Lacoste wearing pricks on a weekend, it is unbelievable, they all filter over eventually to Sullivans, sorry “Sullys” for late night fighting and pick on anyone who looks remotely out of place, some lad from Crosby got stabbed to death there 2 years ago, having been the victim of “mistaken identity”, the bouncers like to get in on the act of battering knobheads but then again, if i was a bouncer there i’d do the same. I went once for a late bevvy and some tithead thought it would be hilarous to set off a CS gas cannister in there, the ambulance services were over run and a few people nearly choked to death thanks to this w****r.
A short walk down to the Strand and across to the Strand Tavern is an eye opener – should I call it Mos Eisley Cantina Bar off Star Wars. Its full of desperate women looking to pull someone normal as most have married scally men in the past who’ve either walked out on them after the 1st sprog or battered them for years. Its easy though, I got a blow job off some 20 year old mother of 2 in there, I never gave her my mobile number or told her where I lived thank god.
The Strand by day is a god awful hell hole, I wish Al Qaeda would blow it up but it would serve no lofty purpose, scally orange faced mothers pushing prams round, old biddys who constantly talk about death like its the “in” thing, crap shops and just complete freaks. It really is a depressing hell hole, I went to Huge Taird College and vowed that I would never work in Bootle, even if I got offered a decent amount of wedge. I am still true to my word.