Cleator Moor is the most ****** town in Cumbria. It is like most **** towns in that it has a market square (the market being Biddle’s Meat van on Friday’s), four shops and a rough-looking pub on every corner. When the sleeveless-vest-in-Winter boys aren’t driving their Vauxhall Corsa’s they spend time with their families by riding up and down the roads on mini-motos, child loosely held at the shoulder.
Or even under the bridge over the cycle path where it seems who can smash the most glass is the favoured sport of the tracksuited scamps.
An old, converted chapel which is now, a Paul’s Wines mini-market is high on the chavmeet.
Back to the market square you will find the centre of chavdom. It bristles with the Burberry clad who sit, Fosters in hand, and watch their older brothers circle the square several times, playfully honking their car horns before heading off to Whitehaven to circle MacDonalds.
Anyone unfortunate to ever find themselves driving through West Cumbria may wish to heed the following advice:- stick to the A595, it goes nowhere near Cleator Moor
