Northampton was apparently once a magnificent market town. But for as long as I lived there, there was nothing magnificent about it.
I grew up in Duston, a village 3 miles away from the town centre. Between the stench of sewage, huge chav families lounging around on their front lawns with cans of cheap lager paid for by their hard earned dole money, the scandalous secondary school with truly useless teachers, pedophiles and the notorious alcoholics, this part of town is very mild compared to the rest of Northampton (even with police officers being attacked on doorsteps and the patients at the mental hospital occasionally being let out). At least if you walk around Duston at night, you’d probably get home alive and well.
This cannot be said for the town centre. A walk through the churchyard on St Giles Street or the Racecourse at night is very likely to end badly for the unsuspecting visitor of this cesspit, as this is where you’re most likely to be stabbed by one of the many chavs and eastern Europeans who live here.
And as dangerous as town is at night, it’s also unpleasant during the day. Take a walk through Abington Street during the day and you’ll be bombarded with beggars sitting in nearly every doorstep. You’ll have to try to hold your breath as you walk by the emo kids as you’ll surely catch a herbal scent in the general vicinity. And don’t get me started on their ill-advised construction of 3 malls, a terrible new bus station and a filth-ridden water fountain on the market Square!
The only celebrity to come from this cesspit is Alan Carr. Other names famous only to this town are the clown, a man who always claims to be getting married, the bag lady and 50p lil who is often seen taking a piss in the street.
A word of advice: when you see the massive concrete tower, turn around and go back where you came from. Save your sanity!