Stoke-on-Trent has to be the a******e of England. I have had the misfortune, and stupidity to base myself here when I took a position with a local company here. Yeah I know, its all my fault for moving here. I should have listened to people and chosen a better place to live but I assure you I’m rectifying that right now.
How can you describe Stoke…Well if the actual World needed an enema, Stoke-on-Trent would be where they shove the pipe. It’s that bad, junkies, single mothers, asylum seekers and general track suit wearing doleites. It has the lot.
The most favourite place for the local chavettes to try to get themselves impregnated in is “ooup Hanley” (drop the H, they cant pronounce them). This gives them the Holy Grail… a free council house and the full mite of the CSA to hammer some silly f****r into the ground for most of his life…..that’s if they manage to find a local with a job paying over minimum wage.
A night out “Up Anleyyyy” if full of its own fun and danger. From the local Kurdish, Iraqi and other dregs of society who infest the place masquerading as asylum seekers, who wander about in the hours of darkness in gangs looking for some sucker who ventures out alone. Here they pull knives on you to steal the coppers from your pocket. A night in the bars “ooup Anley” isn’t any better. Take your eye of your drink for a split second and some c**v slips something into it. Then they lie in wait like a pack of hyenas for you to either go outside/to the toilet and collapse. Then they can have the pick of your pockets.
For a laugh you have to go to watch the mating rituals at the local nightspot…Jumpin Jaks…or as I call it Jumpin G*****s. Here you can find the real dregs of Stoke…the 20 stone heifers in the short skirts desperate looking for another fool to impregnate them in order to have another 16 years of free house and CSA cash. This is great for the local asylum seeker population to try to bag a Passport.
I watched some 9 stone asylum seeker try to pull this big munter who must have been pushing 40…years and stone. He must have been desperate.
Then there’s Robbie Williams. Robbie is the Stokies idea of a demigod, their hero who is to be worshipped at all times. The fact that as soon as he had a few £ in his pocket and got the f**k away as fast as possible seems to be lost on them.
In sort the only way to improve Stoke-on-Trent is a well-placed Cruise Missile. I count the days to I get the f**k away from it never to set eyes on the s**t hole again.