Imagine – a small, slumbering town in the heart Somerset where one can commune with nature and lead a peaceful life…..Dream on!
Yeovil is truly Chavtopia: an unending parade of scrotey, scrawnly little upstarts with their nine ninety nine Argos bling, their shell suits, trainers and whining Janner accents.
Chief **** mill is the unfortunate Buckler’s Mead secondary school, lovingly nestling in the crotch of Yeovil’s skankiest scabbiest council estates.
Each morning, the ***** weave their way up St John’s Road and St Michael’s Avenue and stiby road. Scattering debris like no tomorrow and having a quick *** before the “rigors” of the school day. And each morning, the dwindling population of the school who are not scraping the shallow end of the **** gene pool must once again run the gauntlet of the ********* behaviour of the face of God’s Earth.
From a teacher’s perspective, the vast majority went past caring at least five years ago and now are ticking off the days until their retirement (I have allegedly actually seen this done).
**** behaviour is cranked up to the max during lesson time as the fight to spread the words of Shakespeare gives way to “Yer, Nokia’s gr8, innit?” (they even speak in this weird form of English, which has become known as “Twattish”) and “you goin down 2 Poundlaaaaaand aaaafter school to nick loads of stuff?”
I have heard the tale of the **** who actually went into the aforementioned establishment and asked, without any irony, how much something was.
**** rules on food is reinforced at lunch time, when any fod offered by the school canteen which has not been deep fat fried/genetically modified/banned in other countries is readily consumed. Alternatively, the **** leaders congregate at the local shop to try and buy booze in thier school uniform (eeeeeeerrr…) or alledge sexual escapades. (These could entail even talking to the opposite *** – **** shagging is all in the mind)
So – if you have children of school age in Yeovs, I strongly recommend shipping them out (perhaps of the country for their own safety even) or you may find that one day, Burberry will be in …..
Sleep well, people.
Wiveliscombe: sh*te rolled down hill and collected in one glorious cesspit
“I hate life and Watchet” – said a poignant piece of graffiti
Nailsea: Where the old come to die
Minehead, Grockels come to here to paddle their hairy toes in the sea
Chard: The town where the garbage men make deliveries
Bristol: A battle between hipster and yokel
Wells – Posh veneer, **** underbelly
Bridgwater: like an open cesspit, the thickest sh*ts tend to accumulate here
Yeovil – Jewel of the **** Crown