Wellingborough
A place so utterly devoid of character and unremarkable that it paradoxically stands out as being one of the most pointless places in England. Populated predominantly by kebab shops and Polish food markets, what is left of the town's indigenous tribe clutter the greasy, spit ridden pavements like small swarms of angry and mentally hindered wasps. Children haunt you down the street gobbing abuse whilst hassling for change and cigarettes. The tracksuit still rules okay on the streets of Wellingborough... except on Friday nights when a couple of hundred clones leer and piss all over the faux-cobbled centre, roaring "Build Me Up Buttercup" and puking their way out of the one nightclub. All wearing the same 'edgey' pink shirt they bought from Burtons; the town's only non-sports clothes shop.

What really makes Wellingborough stand out is the sheer amount of literally insane people wandering the pavement. A woman resembling an overweight Norse troll sporting inexplicably shiny and enormous trainers walks endlessly round the block like a mad animal trapped in a cage. Tragically, if only she'd not continuously chosen to turn right at the end of the street she would have achieved something with her life by walking further than anyone in human history. There's also a elderly man who rambles the streets topless. He clangs about with him a huge metal pole, waving it at people as he mutters enthusiastically about serial killers and east end thugs. He once passed me whilst crossing the road and opening his nasty white beard he piped up, licking the words as they came out; "Don't get run over now."

And then there's Karaoke Karen... a pale skinned woman with hair like a bright-ginger version of Jack Nance in Eraserhead who gained local notoriety in the mid 90s with persistent episodes of ghetto-blaster fueled mayhem involving a breathless and unnerving dance in the middle of the town's busiest streets. She disappeared for a number of years but was recently spotted clutching a lamp-post in a desolate car park, staring vacantly out of her sad and fattened face as if gazing through a shallow veil of happy memories and into madness itself. Truly the human embodiment of Wellingborough.
(Mr Eraserhead Why aren't you a lemon?, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 13:31, 4 replies)

Wellingborough
The worst part of Wellingborough has got to be around Queensway - chav city!

Fat girls displaying huge bellies beneath their ill fitting T shirts abound! Most of the families live on income support and takeaways - the local economy is boosted by petty crime, selling drugs and flogging nicked satnavs at car boot sales!

There was a sign on the way into this hellhole on earth (on the A509 to be precise) that read "Northamptonshire - Rose of the Shires" at which point I would say out loud "Wellingborough - Arsehole of the Universe!"
( Vambo, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 14:47, closed)

My grandparents lived not far from there if I remember, just off Olympic Way, there was a pub near their house called The Eagle. What a shithole!
(Kia Ora it's 2 orangey 4 crows, it's just 4 me and my dog, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 15:13, closed)

Mrs Hatred currently works in Wellingborough
She has listened to me read out your description and agrees with every single word of it. Truly a toilet.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 19:33, closed)

i noes some folks from wellingborough...
and they are abit straaange.

albeit, these ones at least relatively pleasant & harmless in a 'simple' sort of way.
(artesia if a badger crawled out my arse, i'd call it jesus, Tue 3 Nov 2009, 18:04, closed)