A place I would never live in unless I was mentally ill
The magnet for the c***s and other low life is the Concourse (or ‘Conny’) where the local low life go Conny Dossin’ instead of going to school. The local Asda is infamous for the number of thefts that occur – usually c***s emptying lemonade into the freezers and filling the empty bottles with vodka or gin so they can buy their fix for 18p. The Conny is the only building I’ve visited that smells disgusting all the way through. The people are scruffy, tasteless, poor scroungers who fiddle their benefits and ‘leccy’ meters while avoiding work or the local ‘bizzies’ (police). Most Skemers are second generation scousers but with a harsher accent. Before this concrete, traffic island carbuncle rose up from Hell, Skelmersdale was a village whose roots were founded by the Vikings. Now, the whole place is a crime ridden s**t tip populated by delinquent, illiterate, Irish-descended deviants, who travel to Turkey or Spain for their hols or to the local rural villages to terrorise the decent inhabitants. Go to the Concourse during the day to do a bit of C**v Spotting, but make sure you’re home before night fall and get out of the roundabout road system with enough fuel in your tank. The locals claim every benefit going, yet can afford a satellite dish; those that do work take sickkies so they can work cash in hand for some local p***y butcher; they claim to be proud of their background, yet would burgle their neighbours. I particularly like the names they give their offspring: Chelsea or Charlea (Give me strength!) They are TOTALLY without any moral fibre and are the stuff which Trisha and Jerry Springer were made for.