Slipping one place this year to No.4 is the town described by Monty Python satirically as a ‘quaint northern village’ and the dodgy-looking wart on the undercarriage of Greater Manchester, Rochdale. Our contributors did not hold back on manky manc municipality:
The place is abysmal and has the effect of making you want to catch a bus ANYWHERE as long as you can get out of the vicinity FAST!
The cesspit of the universe, where evolution took a break and told them to breed with their sisters over and over and over.
Take in the smells – the strong whiff of tobacco and fatty foods with subtle hints of exhaust fumes, sweat and damp vegetables from the market area; see if you can detect a undertone of vomit, Hai Karate aftershave and old cheese.
No need to hide the rolls of fat around one’s midriff, no need to bother with personal hygiene or inconveniences such as makeup or combs. You are now standing in the centre of the universe. Breath deep my friend, soak it up. Then make your choice – leave fast or stay forever.
You have a choice, visit Rochdale or have your gonads beaten 800 times with a rusty sledgehammer wielded by a German bodybuilder… I’ll get the hammer.