I’m not a local, but I live here and I quite like this town, it has such wonderful chav watching opportunities.
Top hang outs include Grand Central, a purpose built arena for the local sport of bottling, it even has steps for the serried ranks of pram faces to watch the stamping and ground pawing of their men folk in full “that’s my bird” display.
The town is an enclave of followers of the great god
Burberry. Allegiance to him is indicated by the baseball cap welded to the top of the head. Go to the football ground on match day and marvel at the sea of Burberry check caps – quite honestly I’m surprised that County haven’t attempted a deal with Burberry to supply their new kit, it would be perfect.
Many years ago I worked for a few weeks at the Burberry factory in East London. Had I known the blasphemy that would be visited upon that noble fashion house I would have firebombed the place.
Rockport, on the other hand, have only themselves to blame and deserve everything they get.
Aside from that, there is a truly awful club, the name of which has been eradicated from my memory (not Heaven and Hell though). I went there once.
And once was enough.
What a mistake that was. But you know, we were young, we were foolish, we wanted a late beer….On the way to loo, my @rse was slapped no less than 3 times. We left on a receding tide of blue WKD, glad to get out unharmed.
Saturday sees the parade of the female. Accompanied by a crocodile of mewling and puking children, they march two, even three, abreast, prams – or trolleys in the dialect – to the front, sweeping all before them on their ceaseless quest for branded tat. Their desire to spend their hard earned (and I used this term advisedly, this is a place where the spawning of children is seen as a salaried job) giro is insatiable.
Their faces are tan salon orange, their ears sag under the weight of yet another hoop, their legs that particular shade of ham pink that I like to call ‘depressed housewife’….the girls of this town are glorious in miniskirt and matching handbag and nothing stops them in their endless breeding.
Come to Stockport, land of the chav, home of the brave.