It’s a shame really. This small town nestled between Rochdale and Rawtenstall could be considered a fantastic little town; the town fountain, the quirky ‘Welsh village’ buildings, and of course, it had the smallest street in Britain. Its cotton mill heritage with those proud working class values of yesteryear. Not to mention it has quite a few claims to fame and even a few celebs live or have been known to have lived there. Sounds great doesn’t it? That’s until you notice what the majority of the population are … *****! Yes, this ******* race has even began to infect small towns and rural areas now.
You can tell it’s a **** haven even before you get there. On the 464 bus journey to the town, the seats welcome you to the Rossendale Valley with words such are ‘****’, ‘Kev R has a small d**k’ or ‘Chelsea was eya chillin wiv Kirsty b4u’ either scribed on, wrote on with marker or burned on with a lighter.
When the bus arrives, you will have to fight your way off the bus because ugly ********* with prams will be pushing their way on the bus to go to Rochdale and get the weekly shopping from the pound shop. Of course, they will be arguing with the driver because there are already 3 ********* with prams on the bus and no matter how hard he tries to explain it’s a safety risk to get another pram on, he’s always ‘in the wrong’ to not let a mum with a pram on the bus (“Fockin’ di*k-ead bus drivoh get ma focki’ dad on yah, innit”)
Once you’re off the bus, you’ll be greeted by a heard of ***** perched on the benches, usually drinking. They come down from the Pennine Road Estate during the day. Why this happens is a mystery. Usually one of them owns a clapped-out Nova and parks on the taxi rank, showing off his new sound system (it’s not the bass what’s shaking the buildings, it’s the distortion from the cheap and nasty speakers!).
If you look at them for a split second, they start threatening you with “I’ll track ya down and torch yer ‘ouse!”. Or perhaps they may steal any articles that are not attatched to you, such as your hat or shopping bag. The most gentle of them will give you the opertunity of sparing your teeth if you give them a ***. This is the closest a Bacup **** comes to reasoning.
It gets better at night! By this time, the ***** are drunk or stoned. The males go round hurling abuse, breaking into cars or kicking the **** out of each other. The females go around mating, wearing next to nothing or screaming “I’M OFF ME FACE!! HAHAHA!” The latter seems to be a mating call because no sooner the males know the females are drunk, they’ll have their arms round them and taking them to the nearest alleyway to fertilise them. The females never seem to struggle but usually cry **** when they realise they’re pregnant.
Nearby Bacup is another council estate … Edgeside. For absolutely no reason, these two estates are constantly at war. There’s graffiti all round the valley like ‘e-side ********’ or ‘bacup bograts’. When a gang of Bacup ***** collide with a group of Edgeside *****, all hell breaks loose. It’s amusing because they have no idea why they hate each other. Some will say it’s “coz they’re d**kheads” or “coz they were startin'”. It’s like watching caged chimps!
Favourite **** hangouts are:
The library steps
Outside OneStop
Perched on the bus stop benches
All bus shelters
On the 464 bus
On Pennine Road/Tong Lane
The Waterloo pub (for those who are old enough to fake their age)
Did you know that Bacup has appeared in many episodes of The League of
Gentlemen? Hardly surprising considering how wierd the characters are!
They probably derived the phrase ‘Are you local?’ from a **** asking
them ‘Where ya from? Where ya going, d**khead?’ (Hoping you’ll say
Edgeside so they can kick your ****. Really … I get asked this at
least once a week!)
