Let us for a moment imagine that the British Isles are the silhouette of an old man. Scotland is his cap, Cornwall his toes, Anglia his curved spine making Dover his herpes ******** ****-hole. When questioned, most people will remark that they have been through Dover but never stopped off “daaaaaaaaahn taaaaaaahn,” as the city centre is known locally. Dover has been through many stages in its development to reach its present day chavley splendor.
From the heady days of the eighties tobacco boot-legging epidemic to the present day influx of Eastern European immigrant dole-sponges, Dover has always enjoyed a vibrant multi-cultural atmosphere. During the eighties the sheer volume of scouse, benefit fraudsters earning a living buying and selling duty free tobacco, spirits and drugs boosted the local economy to such dizzying heights that various Liverpudlian customs and linguistic traits were adopted by the local folk. The ease at which these Northern **** brethren were assimilated was partly due to their cultural similarity. Fighting, “gobbing,” drinking in the street during the day and living off the state are all popular pass times in Liverpool I am reliably informed.
Dover already boasted a rich cultural heritage of it’s own before these new arrivals. The annual Dover Pageant is the high-light on every Dovorian’s calendar. Quaint customs such as pelting or “lozzing” copper coins at the Beauty Queens travelling atop the crate paper floats is heartily indulged by the audience.
New visitors to Dover may some times be surprised at the common occurrence of physical deformities among the local populace. One must bear in mind that there is an effluent out flow pipe located one mile from the popular local beach and that pregnancy among smoking teenagers is high above the national average. As one pregnant local teenager remarked whilst smoking a large skunk spliff, “yer weeel, I only gotta few weeks ta gow until I’m due, innit!”
Another local feature is the Paratroopers military base on Conaught hill. These plucky young boys enjoy a night out on the tiles fighting local *****, knocking up local *********, simulating **** *** on the local dance floors and other such japery.
When my local town was featured on “Drunk Britain” it swelled my chest with pride.
So please if you’re ever in the area and fancy a visit, pop down to Dover and sample some “culcha.”
