You would think a quiet town in Wiltshire with nothing in it, nor surrounding it, would generally be a well kept, peaceful town for the elderly to await their inevitable death. However, this is far from the case in Warminster. There are perhaps four main demographics that exist in Warminster. All with their own sub types, but all as intolerable as the last.
Firstly you have the “Warminster roadman” an intriguing species he is indeed. Although he comes from relatively privileged background (although Warminster is ****, poverty around the area is not common) he still believes he is hard done by, and has grown up with the “gangster lifestyle”. This perhaps can be accredited to the fact he’s listened to Stormzy a few times. The Warminster roadman can always be entrusted with showing up with his cheap BMX he bought from the local Argos, and also comes equipped with an equally cheap Adidas tracksuit and atrocious Nike airs. Although privileged (but perhaps not well educated thanks to the local school of Kingdown) he still uses the colloquial terms any roadman can be expected to use. “Fam” “Bruv” “peak”, are just a few of the choice words in the roadmans limited, but also weirdly vast arsenal of the English language. If it were not for these slang terms, I hypothesise they would know only 10 words on a good day.
Then you have the elderly. Without a doubt the most pleasant people you’ll meet in Warminster; simply because they’re the only pleasant people. They keep to themselves most of the time. But perhaps not by choice. The degenerates of Warminster have forced this species to be introverts and stay indoors. Going out for them would probably be the equivalent of Anne Frank going out for a pint of milk, only bad things are going to happen, and possible death by the rampant, misguided locals that inhabit Warminster.
Then you have the squaddies, a stigma surrounds squaddies in this epicentre of **********. Squaddies here are generally perceived as violent, *** driven and borderline alcoholic. Perhaps this is the case for some. Every weekend there will always be some squaddie whose had intercourse with one of the local “Squaddies mattresses” (we’ll get onto these later on) behind some bins or at the side of the local Morrison’s. It would be very idiosyncratic of any typical Warminster weekend without this. Accompanied by the fighting between squaddies and the “Warminster roadman” fore-mentioned in this post. For the most part most of both demographic can live side by side civilly. But there is those few from both sides who harbour a hatred for each other. And for this reason, bars like the Old Bell and KS bar should invoke a border within their own establishments to separate the two residing species. Similar to the border of North and South Korea. This is my formal proposal.
But without a doubt my favourite type of person within the ruins of Warminster is the squaddie mattress. A squaddie who spends a majority of his time down south for whatever reason would be incomplete without this fan base. Due to the rules of this website i cannot name individuals. But anyone reading this article I presume will most definitely be able to think of a few people off the top of their heads whom like nothing more than to be slammed like a car door on a weekend by a squaddie; and sometimes by multiple in the same night! This disturbing species of woman can always be found on the dance floor and smoking area of Old Bell. Where they lay there in wait, waiting to hear a Yorkshire accent…. And then they strike.
Now the generic Squaddie Mattress will simply sleep with a few squaddies. And although I have no respect for them, they haven’t done anything absolutely immoral. However in their midst there are a few cunning ones. These ones will get in a relationship with a soldier. Knowing full well that the chances of success are abysmal. But I cannot fault their effort.
However the pinnacle of this tactic comes at the, of course, predictable break up. Where the Squaddie Mattress will then embark on a mission of vengeance. This is done simply, by them sleeping with as many of the soldiers friends as humanly possible. They can often be seen bringing their ex’s friends back to their crack den. Or as previously stated, sometimes they get straight to it in public. Most Squaddie Mattresses know that their title is well earned and justified. But keep it as a badge of honour for some idiotic reason. However some of these savages will implode with anger if you imply that they getting fingered more times than a Haribo ring by the neighbouring soldiers. They believe there is absolutely nothing wrong with sleeping with a different soldier most weekends. They are without a doubt, my favourite species in this desolate town.
In conclusion, if you have some misplaced ideology about yourself and think you’re a gangster, or you’re a woman with confidence issues and sleeping with various squaddies in a short space of time will boost your self esteem. Then Warminster is the town for you.
Trowbridge – An Unpolished Turdtown
Salisbury: I spy with my 3rd eye
Trowbridge – The Detroit of Wiltshire
Warminster is a run down, dingy, ******, dull, grey, depressing town
Frome: Trapped in Vegan Hell
Shaftesbury – it’s great if you’re old and rich
Salisbury – well there’s two types of people
Salisbury: hole of Wiltshire