When I was younger, I had fond memories of Fareham. I still nostalgically reminisce about going on leisurely walks with my family when I was around seven years old. Growing up, however, has taught me that I was either: oblivious to how disgusting this place is, or my generation has tainted Fareham with its complete lack of education. I hate to demonise the youth of my generation, my generation being that of generation y’s, but the majority of the groups I’ve encountered have been aggressive and lacking in any form of wit whatsoever.
These gangs seem to think they’re a part of some form of the Mafia as they strut around, posting death threats on and freely discussing hard drug use on social media. I have been jumped twice on the streets of Fareham, not to mention chased around, by people I am pretty sure are one cell short of brain death. The phrase “we own this town” is thrown around a lot in Fareham and every time I hear it, I cringe just that little bit harder.
It’s the kind of town where the inhabitants will only look out for themselves, if you happen to go against what a standard Fareham resident deems in their “best interest” you had better start running, because you are obviously wrong. The racism is appalling and god forbid you visit here with some kind of LGBTQ agenda, the majority of people who live here are scared, and subsequently angered, by what they do not understand. Basically, everything scares/angers them.
Despite this immeasurable amount of negativity, Fareham has its pros. Manhattans’ Pizza is pretty and High Street Sweets has a brilliant selection of sweets and drinks from around the world on offer. Gosport is where things really decline in most aspects, then there’s Stubbington, Gosport’s posh younger brother with delusions of not being scummy and gross.
If you want to have Portchester described to you in a noun phrase: Old people and fedoras. Maybe give Wicca Wreck a visit, maybe they’ll leave your body by the nice beach bit there. If you have any argumentative prowess, I must inform you that the rules are different here. Arguing in Fareham is not about rationality, coherency or soundness. Arguing is about making as much noise and filling sentences with as many logical fallacies as possible, all while having a Ken’s Kebab on the side, because it’s okay when immigrants serve you food and do all the jobs you don’t want to. It’s only when they try to act like the British citizens they are that you get annoyed. After all, “Britain must stay pure” you’ll hear the single mother of five as she sips tea, imported from India.
Overall, it’s safe to say that ideally you don’t really want to live here. However, the shopping precinct is pretty good and there’s a cinema, so you can survive, provided you heed a very simple rule: “we own this town, we do”.