firstly i must point out, this town is not your ordinary chavtown, this is the mecca of all c***s, a 9ct argos goldmine for the underclass.
worksop, its glory moments include being the home to lee westwood, no not the wigga off of radio1, thats tim westwood, but lee westwood, the s**t golfer. you wouldn’t think it amiss if tim westwood did come from the hard streets of the ‘sop as its affectionately referred to by its residents, and not birmingham or london or whereever the t****r is from.
possibliy worksop’s crowning achievement is being internationally renound for having the highest cases of heroin and heroin related crimal incidents in the whole of europe, one in two families in worksop have had some kind of heroin involvement, records now suggest. the entire nation could have witnessed worksop in all its glory sunday week gone, when on itv, the c**v channel of choice, was a documentary about the town and the effects of the mines closing unpon the people, specifically looking at the amount of smackheads which now linger around the place, asking for 20p to get the bus home so they can in reality just get abit closer to dying just that but sooner.
this town died many years ago, stolen by the grubby sovereign clad hands of the c**v. we are a town of over 55, 000 people, there are 57 pubs/bars in worksop, work that out, the population of worksop can be fitted in to drinking establishments, what does that suggest to be the main past time for the youfters in this sad, tired town? we aren’t just famous for having a s**t golfer though, the c**v shop of choice ‘wilkinsons’ has its main office based just outside the town, obviously not in the town, as the wherehouses would be raided on a daily basis and tens of pounds worth of s**t accessories for the c**v about town’s council house would be stolen. also, we make every oxo cube in the world, and produce supernoodles mushy peas and friskies cat food. all this put together leaves thw town, on a hot summers day, smelling of beef stock and catfood.
my personal favorite claim to fame though, was the portrayal of worksop folk in the children’s show ‘maid marianne and here merry men’ in which the town and its people were referred to as ‘the mud people of worksop’. all worksopians (as we are known as) worksipped mud and lived in a mud covered mud obsessed shanty town of mud! it repersented the hoenst truth about the majority of people in worksop, we are mostly thick cultureless bastards, inable to string togehter a worthwhile set of words, yet alone produce a profound moving speech, which is why i believe we will never see a great thinker emerge from the streets of the ‘sop.
this is a quick explanation fo the people in worksop and its geography. one side is called manton, its s**t and full of scallies, youfters, smackhead and general s**m. kilton is the ghetto, its not as bad as manton, but it isn’t great. then we have thw town, the general centre and largest area of the town, the town has no music shop, nothing. it hasn’t got a shop to buy music in, so anyone wanting a cd not in the chart, has to travel to sheffield of nottingham, otherwise feel the pain as the c**v behind the counter at woolwoths stares at you in a way that looks asthough you have walked straight up to her slapped in the face, told her that her gold clown around her neck was s**t and said that girls aloud and big brozav are bollocks. we have gatefords then, and you can tell who is stealing benefits as they are the council and terrace houses with the bmw and a satalite dish outside. next there is prospect and carlton road, two of the only nice old areas of the town, yet still it is the hot spot for any child on a friday night to go get pissed up on cheap manky cider bought from the offie. lastly, we have the gateford estate, these people don’t actually live in worksop, they commute to sheffield or nottingham everyday and spend their weekends in thei houses, only venturing to the supermarket to pick up their weekly shop, never actually going anywhere near the town centre to witness the shitness of worksop.
in going to leave you with this thought. the christmas just gone, i had just returned from university, i had been there three months and had absolutely now problems at all, i went in to town for a drink (more fool me) on a saturday nite, after being in worksop for 8 hours i was atacked and smacked twice in the head on my way home for no reason at all. this guy smashed my glassies, hit my mates twice aswell and broke another friends nose. when it went to trial, the f*****g twat didn’t even show up for his own conviction, as it ended up being. what a complete and utter chavwank. oh well, guess he won’t be buying any burberry for a while seeing as he has to pay £800 in compensation to us. ha ha ha, the s**t!