Twydal

The main focus point of this dreary, one-horse town is the fabled “Twydall Shops”. This concrete mess of a town contains more ***** per head than the legendary Chatham Town centre (trust me, I’ve lived in the Medway towns for all of my life…).

The shops themselves are a sight to be seen. The small square contains every essential **** shop, A chippy, a chineese, an Indian, a “Blockbuster” Rental shop, a “Paaaand shop”, a Spa, a Co-Op a Post Offce (for dole money) and a gambling shop (to spend the aforementioned dole money). The only place that no decent **** would be seen i is the small, poorly funded Library that is tucked in one corner of the square. Strangely, the local ***** seem to have mentaly screened out this part of their haven, many of them dening the existence of such a terrible aboration in their “turf”.

The ***** of this area are as unilightened as any others that you will find in the most degraded cess-pit of a town. All of the menfolk are pigeon-chested, pale and in-bred. The girls of the region alternate between rake-like orange figures (clad in fake desighner clothes that the insist are real) and pallid girls who are wider then they are tall (who strangely only wear tracksuits or clothes desighned for people half thier size).

How grim is your Postcode?

Most ***** in the area drive small, outdated cars, one “cruise” away from exploding, motocross bikes, Mopeds (that whine more than the cavettes of this charming town) or BMX bikes.

Local ***** of note include a certain “Ziggy” who has “Tagged” (vandalised) more walls in the area than any other rat-boy. His immortality is ensured by two lasting artworks: one on the outside wall of the local bakery and the other on a ramp at the local skatepark (usually crammed with melingering *****, White lightening and Stella in hand).