Meadowhall. What an inspiration to the city this place was when it first opened in 1989. That was until a species of ‘human being’ took it over for themselves. The ****. For all of us unfortunate enough to have entered this ****-ridden, God-forsaken, *****-******** ********, you will easily be able to identify what I mean.
It gets hot in Meadowhall, too hot. And being hot, claustrophobic, and surrounded by ***** is the worst combination, because they reek of common, council house dwelling smeg. All around you there are horrendously freckled, ginger, filthy single mothers with second hand prams and half-caste babies writhing around in them. These species of ******** ‘*****’ are far from sympathetic, telling their six month old chavlings to ‘shurrupwillye?!’ Charming.
Their humongous bright plastic earings, and fake gold chains round their leatherette, cracked, wrinkly necks are a repulsive sight. Of course, they all don their three-quarter length peddle pushers with the **** trademark pull strings at the bottom, so you can see their monstrous foot-tatoos, and a fake Burberry cap with a Le Coq Sportif jacket.
The male **** is no better. An obvious thug, always with a throbbing temple and puce in colour, this grease monkey walks around sporting the latest Sheffield Wednesday strip, with his gorilla arms ready for a fight like some wild animal. Well, thats hardly surprising is it?
Leaving Meadowhall is the most interesting thing one can see a **** family do. Deep down in their twisted hearts, or other appropriate organ, they know that they’re going back to a ****** fleapit council house/flat/landfill site. The **** young are obviously more sensitive to it, though they soon harden up, because just as they set out to go back, they scream in a common, COMMON, disgusting accent, “iwannagoforafookinmacdonalds!” The ******** ***** will scream quite embarrasingly loud, “meanyedadavjustbought300fookingciggies, wedontavenoughmoneyyeungratefullittlebastardyer!”
The chavling already showing the aggressive signs of what he is going to grow up to be begins a tirade of cursing, as the **** family cross the car park to their last-times X reg Ford Escort, which used to be white, but now has a blue wing, red door, and hand brush-painted bonnet, presumably to go home and watch some ITV **** on the telly.