Torpoint is the first (or last depending on which way you look at it) town in Cornwall. The Royal Navy trains new recruits here, which means that there is constant flow of young men! This however also means that the female population are more often than not dressed up like a year old on a trip to Topshop. Most chavettes start young here (girls i went to school with used to go to the wheelers to pull matelots when they were 13). Friday and Saturday nights, most of the underage population of Torpoint can be found down the Lawns (a public park leading down to the river, shielded from the the main road and therefore open to all sorts of antisocial behaviour) with a bottle of ‘dirt’ (white cider) and 10 lungbleeders (Sovereign or L&B) before heading down the the Mez Bar (has to be the downstairs bar though) or the Harbour Lights. The Harbour Lights is the lynchpin of Torpoint’s ‘nightlife’ and like any ‘quality’ nightclub in any nondescript town (Romford, Dudley, Cumbernauld, you name it) boasts a sticky carpet and sweaty walls and often smells of rancid feet. The underage kids (girls in micro minis, soveriegn rings and white eyeliner) will stand over by the fruit machines and wait for sailors to buy them drinks (often in return for sexual favours at the end of the evening). No evening in torpoint is complete without a trip to Vino’s for a doner kebab with garlic mayo and a ringside seat of the skirmish outside.
Once one of their mates turns 17 and they get access to an old Citroen Saxo or Vauxhall Nova this means that they can cruise around ‘the point’ often along the country road out to Trerulefoot back and down through Fore Street to keep an eye on the talent. It also means that they can venture over ‘the other side’ (plymouth, devon) and head to Chavopolis (barbican leisure park) where they can compare alloys, paint jobs and crap tribal stickers on their chavwagons.
Other than this, very little happens in Torpoint.