Sholver, one windswept winter’s night I found myself alone, cold and afraid on the streets of this **** smeared overspill. As the wind howled and the icy rain cut into me like one of the many discarded hypodermic needles scattered here and there, I heard a distant voice calling to me.
At first I mistook it for the unforgiving northerly winds whistling through the boarded up windows of one of the many abandoned blocks of flats. Then in the distance a woman with a face like Popeyes old nemesis, The Sea Hag approached. ‘Ya al riiight?’, it said. Trying my very best to look like I had just finished my A, Levels and was university bound, I replied, ‘Yes thank you’. I looked away, as though I was waiting for a preordered taxi. ‘Ya want ya ???? suckin? Al suck it reet good un ya don’t need tu use a Johnny.’ I froze, how the devil would I reply to such a proposition?
I turned back to face this foul smelling hobgoblin of a woman. ‘I’m ok thanks’, I replied. ‘*** on don’t be a ******* poof! Fiver an yu can [perform an act we can’t mention here]’ As I took a closer look at this nightmarish vision, I noticed the many scabs around her toothless mouth, a cigarette burned down to the filter wedged firmly into the corner of her lips. Thinking fast I scrambled for an excuse.
My mind awash with so many insults that I could have thrown her way, but then it happened. ‘Well, you were right the first time.’ ‘Ya wot?’ It replied. ‘I am gay.’ Pleased with my rouse, I expected her to fade back into the night’s air. ‘So, du ya fancy [performing another ‘brown’ act we can’t mention] then? Twenty quid, thirty wiv owt a Johnny.’ My heart raced. Now what? This vision from the pits of hell would not take no or even **** off for an answer!
Then in the distance my salvation approached. The headlights of a taxi drew close. I held out my hand to flag it down. As it stopped l wrenched open the passengers door and was confronted by what I think was a woman. She sat in the drivers seat, an underbite like Trap Jaw from the 1980s cartoon, He-Man and the sloping brow of a Victorian freak show’s main attraction. I dived in and slammed the door shut. ‘Just drive’ I said. As the missing link put her foot down on the accelerator, half a house brick bounced off of the car’s back window! I turned to see the twisted wretch that offered me the hospitality of her mouth and **** re-arming herself with another brick to throw!
That night I knew that heaven must exist, as I had already been to hell!
Sholver, think of it as a giant category C prison built on a hill side
Uppermill – Saddleworth’s Dumping Ground
Bury: a difficult place to like
Rochdale – Welcome to the cesspit of the universe
Shaw & Royton near Oldham, two insignificant pond life hellholes
Shaw, as annoying as an improperly wiped backside
Harpurhey – You don’t have to smoke spice to live here, but it helps
Saddleworth is not Yorkshire and you’re not Alan Sugar
Middleton: The Gammon-filled Place Where Dreams Come to Die