If you’re looking for a nice place to settle and start a good, quiet life, then look elsewhere but here, this town is twined with Burnley, yes we all know about Burnley. If you don’t I am sure after this you will understand, anyways Stalybridge like Burnley, was a mill town thriving with work and local shops booming with business, where you could walk down the street and be said hello by almost everyone, because it’s such a small town. However during the late 90s, almost the time of the millennium, music changed from nice love songs and music that reminded you of your lovely family holidays to Spain to the start of something horrible, it seemed overnight the town turned into an episode of the league of gentlemen.
Sweet innocent kids turned into right little bastards, Adidas and Nike was all you could see on every child and music turned into some horrible clubbers guide to being a ****, they now call donk music. Where in the town centre what used to be a nice little quiet pub where you would go for a scoop after a graft on the markets, turned into a over priced tacky club with cheap watered-down Stella and you’re local drug dealer as a DJ, as the two 50year old agency KFC chippy tips doormen (who clearly had taken steroids in the past) take the time to order drugs of the council estate’s thug,
The pavements that used to be clean and well maintained, are now wonky, cracked and full of dog sh*t and blood stains from the weekend before. If walking past you’re local town hall you will be hit with the smell of a dirty canal (that stinks through the whole town centre) full of bird **** and local jobcentre bums trying to scav a rollup off some 60 year old tart in a mini skirt out with her 17 year old daughter. When being greeted by someone, instead of good morning/afternoon sir, you get some **** with a quiff who thinks the only way is Essex. It’s now more alllllrighhht m8888 do ya no where A can score some drugs m8888 and wot ya looking at, do you know who I am? Kinda guy who weighs no more than 8 stone, in a voi jumper and a scruffy pair of Nike airs who thinks he’s a know gangster because he can bench press 45kg and his dad’s in prison for taking lead off natwest building society’s roof.
What used to be a thriving town centre, has turned out to be a nice stretch of boarded up shops and small failing businesses, and a massive Weatherspoons, where all the local oxygen thieves go, before they go sign on then creep back for a quick one and then go working cash in hand as a painter. Also the kids have kids, who have kids. If you get to meet one on you’re travels she will tell you that she’s living in a sh*thole, even though it’s her family who made it like that due to being the biggest drugdealers for half a mile. Oh yes. the average ****** teen has had you’re mate and your mate’s mate and brother and father, everybody has tapped it. The lads think they’re English frank and if you don’t know who he is, look him up, as where he’s from that’s another **** hole. Just remember, when going through Stalybridge, play the music in you’re head from the league of gentleman Royston Vasey.