I’m not quite sure where to start here. You could start with the Brown-toothed underbelly of society that like to believe they’re from the close knit group of people ‘up goli’. You could also start with the Neanderthal inhabitants of Bolton, that love to loiter outside the particularly foul smelling Tesco Express, or go ‘t’ angel’ for a a gram of Mcat and a fight. Or you could start with the 12 year old rats that think it’s perfectly fine to smoke weed and drink White Lightning outside McColl’s at Wath Bus Station. Whatever you start with, you’ll finish with the same conclusion. ‘This place is a f**king s***hole.’
Ah, the wonderful village of Goldthorpe, chav mecca! Where the most interesting things that happen are rapes, or suicides. Highgate club, the hub of underage drinking and nonsensical imbeciles who find it necessary to glass people at every opportunity. Then you’ve got ‘chinky on t’corner’ (The Top Chef House) home to the cheapest bee- cat in black bean sauce. Recently shown in all its glory on the documentary ‘Britain’s Benefit Tenants’. This really is the arsehole of Britain.
Now onto the diarrhoea of Britain, Bolton-On-Dearne. The moment you pass under the bridge from Goldthorpe to Bolton you find the run down ‘shop’ ‘Mighty Men’ specialising in plus size clothing for men (who could be women for all we know, with the amount of teenagers jumping on the transgender bandwagon). This perfectly represents the sort of people you’re about to see: Fat, sweaty, odourous men that love to nip to the nearest ‘offy’, get hammered on black Oranjeboom and piss on people’s graves at the cemetary. Then jump on the 226 and go through to the residual smell left by the diarrhoea of Britain, Wath.
After the eventful trip on the 226 with the chavs in their Sergio Tacchini tracksuits playing ridiculous noises from their equally ridiculous speakers at the back of the bus, you step out of the sticky substance on the bus and into Wath Bus Station. Immediately you are greeted with schoolchildren smoking weed, no matter what time of day it is. Take a walk across the road to McColl’s for a chocolate bar or a magazine and be greeted with the rabble of 13 year olds who want you to ‘go in the shop for 10 Richmond’. After avoiding this nonsense you are treated to the next rabble of 13 year olds who are lurking around with their suspicious looking 20 year old friends, getting ‘off their bonce’ on amphetamines. If you finally manage to worm your way out of the hellhole that is Wath, you move on to West Melton, which is a whole different ballgame.
Please, don’t do yourself the injustice of coming anywhere near these places. Brain cells seem to just fade away, and you come out of the whole ordeal feeling like a much dirtier person.