Known to most people only because of a football team and a confusing word association with the Capital of Poland, this once thriving Black Country town is now, quite frankly, a chav-ridden wasteland only saved from a primary place on Irans ‘Nuke it Now’ list by virtue of it’s massive Muslim chav community.
For a town of just over 230,000 people, it has a disproportionate number of dodgy areas: Caldmore (for prostitution and religious openness), Beechdale and Brownhills (noted for their racial tolerance), Pleck (for its famous ‘Skunk and Sex Alley’ – by the library), Darlaston – (a finer testament to beautiful urban desolation not matched until you get to Chicago USA), are dotted all around the town, meaning that nowhere in Walsall can you live a safe distance from thieving, dole-scrounging untermensch. Oh, and not forgetting the Birchills, which is so grim that when a load of illegals from Kosovo arrived there a few years ago, even they couldn’t find anything worth nicking, or anyone even they considered worth a kicking.
The town centre, spurred on by the council’s best efforts to destroy any sign of economic life , (try 3 years to construct a ring road meaning that the town centre is as impregnable as the Green Zone in Baghdad) just illustrates (a) that you need more than 3 people to construct a viable ring road around such a town and (b) that you won’t find more than 3 people prepared to work for a weekly wage in this town of dole scrounging wasters and (c) the loudest sound around the towns peripherary is the ‘click, click’ of dole pole ridden benefit cheats who couldn’t assemble a scalextric let alone a road system.
All of this charts a population of chavs descending into a cesspit of their own making . Until 20 years or so ago, it had an interesting array of mainly independent local shops, but one by one, these have almost all closed down and been replaced by the likes of Poundstretcher, Matalan, TK Maxx, Argos and Wilko’s. Particularly popular are the ‘everything for 99p’ type shops. Despite frequenting these emporiums of utter tat on a daily basis, the locals therein still display that look of childish wonderment one sees on the faces of the educationally sub normal. At least that is the expression on those of whom have their faces to available for scrutiny.
In common with the drift south of such open minded religious habits, many of the women
Pikeys lovely travelling folk from Pakistan and thereabouts that infest the town now compete with postboxes or ninja’s in the local ‘hide my face competition’ for liberated women.
However, what some prefer to cover, others are happy to display. The smallest bust ever measured in Walsall was 48GG (in 1967 or thereabouts). The biggest Bra sold is Walsall is a 32AA. You can guess the rest…………
As far as food goes, all of the chav’s favourite eateries and supermarkets are of course present: McDonalds, KFC, Lidl, Aldi and Iceland are all doing a roaring trade. Woe betide anyone who opens anything other than an Indian restaurant in Walsall – they soon find to their cost that the locals don’t want any of that “foreign muck”.
The same is true when it comes to drinking: the interesting old boozers have practically all disappeared, and in their place are theme bars serving watered-down lager to Burberry-clad youths, who are frantically trying to down enough of it to build up their Dutch courage for the inevitable fight at the WS1 nightclub later in the evening.
In fact, there’s so much booze-related violence in Walsall that it employs a special squad of Community Support Officers to deal with the fallout from the towns ’24 hour binge drinking’ (sorry – continental street drinking) culture promoted by its chav councillors . Not that anyone takes any notice of them, as the blood and vomit to be found in the streets most mornings will testify.
There are unfortunately no plus sides to living in this hell hole – one cannot even contemplate the prospects of nuclear annihilation with rich prospect. You have been warned ‘stay away!’