Once a genteel holiday spot for Victorian bathers taking the sea air, Weston has now sadly succumbed to an unprecedented level of Chaviness.
I was born in this town and it almost makes me weep to think of how the invading hoards have dragged it down to their grubby, soulless, monosyllabic level. I don’t know why Weston expanded so much in the eighties (who the hell would move there now?!) but it appears that almost everyone who arrived was driving a lowered-suspension Vauxhall Nova pounding Slim Shady beats with so much bass that the whole car, and everything within 100 metres, was throbbing.
These people contribute nothing, but know exactly how to bleed the system of obscene amounts of cash which they can then squander on whatever item is deemed indispensible in their particular ghetto – crap jewellery, flash mobile phones, highly flammable tracksuits. What C**v household does NOT have a satellite TV dish ultimately paid for by those who actually get off their a**e for long enough to pay some tax?
My family have now all moved away from this depressing town – my parents were recently persuaded to do a runner after a spectacular example of the male c**v moved in next door and made their bedroom wall vibrate to the rhythm of the C**v stereo at unholy hours of the night. I recently returned from a farewell visit which included a trip to Asda. It was full of very ugly people – ugly on the inside. Any non-C***s who were there had a look of fear on their faces, trying not to look ‘in a funny way’ at Kev or Courtney as they bellowed at their disgusting offspring/mobile phone.
If you really want to see Chavery at its finest, you have to visit their natural habitat of the sea front. With the roads groaning under the weight of Novas and Saxos, you can see the same morons circle the town centre for hours on end. These pasty-faced baseball-capped twats think it the height of cool to show off their ludicrously accessorised ‘wheels’ to fellow c***s and chavettes, while their vanishingly small self-esteem (yes, even c***s know, deep down, that they are indeed utter s**m) is given a lift by the thought of the public that they intimidate.
In summary, Weston is going to the C***s. Get out while you can.