Droitwich
Yes, it's another crap satellite town (half an hour to south Birmingham) where nothing of note happens except for countless petty incidents born of the small mindedness, bigotry and sheer stupidity of the inhabitants. Like a thousand that will get talked about this week, I'm sure.

But it's my town, and for the moment I cannot escape, and as such for the me it is the innermost circle of hell.

All but one of my schoolmates have left, mostly for London, other big cities or abroad. I was brought up to be academic, and my friends were good at school, had artistic leanings and got the hell out of Droitwich at the earliest opportunity. I've stayed behind (mainly because I'm a bit of a useless twat, which I wont go into further), and am slowly going insane here.

There is nothing to do. Except go to the pub. Most evenings I get out of the house and walk around. And end up at the pub. Usually one of the pubs in the centre of town. The clientele are near-identical in every single one. The youngsters are a combination of drug dealers, single parents, scrappers, slappers, illiterates, fifth-generation benefit-cases and racists; the older folk either read the Mail or the Sun and are are all racist. There is a strong pro-BNP sentiment in the area that is used as a measure of your worth in any conversation about politics with almost anyone. Young and old wear ratty tracksuits and baseball caps, perhaps combined with tacky nu-rave gear from topshop for the young or maybe whatever Liam Gallagher would have worn in '96 for the old. The very old wear a look of absolute defeat - people who have given in to living here. I fear one day I may sport that that look myself.

Over the last two years it's been rarer and rarer to see my old friends. For want of anything better to do I've taken to hanging around the pubs on my own, hoping to make friends. I don't make friends. In fact I've become a laughing stock. The youngsters have names for me and always have to compare me to someone silly, a TV chef because of my longish hair, or even f-ing Jon McCririck because last winter I wore a hat with earflaps and had sideburns. Cars drive past and kids lean out shouting "Wally". I don't know where "Wally" came from, and I'm not sure I want to know. So I hang around the older people. However once it has been established I hate the BNP, and that I live in one of the most affluent areas of the town, I become my other character - the wooly middle-class liberal patrronising good honest "working class" folk. "Working class" despite that few of them work full-time, or even at all.

Looking at facebook groups my acquaintances frequent, none of them can spell or use grammar in much capacity at all. None of them.

I don't like this place. This is the depths of the West Midlands, of "chav Britain", the gap in the world's soul. To me, Droitwich beats all your shitty home towns for outright shitness.
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 16:46, 9 replies)

You forgot to mention...
...the obsession with calling it Droitwich SPA
(Betty Spencer did a whoopsie on the carpet on, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 22:48, closed)

Technically it is a spa town
There's a lot of history going back to Roman times and beyond involving the undergroud salt springs we have here. In modern day times this translates to a closed and derelict "brine bath" that, when it used to be open, was basically a glorified hot-tub with salt in it - and it cost about £25 to lie in it with mongs who who were there for the supposed healing properties.
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 12:29, closed)

the spa..
Oooh I know..i used to live there..but in some places not putting the spa bit was liable to get you hung up by your gonads outside trotter hall. And bloody hell if you're a lady with lady bits that brine proper stings.
(Betty Spencer did a whoopsie on the carpet on, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 18:07, closed)

You can get there in a train or you can go in your car...

DROITWICH ROCK CITY!

/self promotion
( Mike Fishcake teamfishcake.co.uk - better than your mum's face, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 13:31, closed)

droitwich
Wasn't it the winter before last Jon?
(Captain_Lemming, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 20:07, closed)

And who the FUCK are you?
Jesus.. this post might have to disappear.
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 20:37, closed)

OK, you've been a member for over 3 years
you're probably alright. However what I've written above would not make me popular in certain quarters, so I'm crossing my fingers. Identify yourself.. via gaz or here.

And yes it was last winter, and my name's not quite "Jon".
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 20:40, closed)

Droitwich
It wasn't last winter..think about it.
(Captain_Lemming, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 20:44, closed)

You cunt
You who reply to my gaz asking for your identity with cryptic bullshit without telling me who the fuck you are.

Last November, Nov '08, I bought a hat with ear flaps from M&S. With my sideburns and glasses I got nicknamed "John McCririck" by a number of fucking chav scum, of which I suspect you are one. That was last winter. I didn't have a hat like it the winter before and had not yet taken to frequenting pubs on my own.

This town is shit. It's down to one-up-manship cunts like you that it is shit. WHO. ARE. YOU??
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Sat 31 Oct 2009, 0:37, closed)