Now Horsham didn’t use to be bad. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad! At least this was what I thought when I grew up there and spent just under half my life there!
It’s a bit like being given a rich tea biscuit every day and trying nothing else. You think the rich tea biscuit is the nuts, the best biscuit EVER. Then one day you find other biscuits and realise just how ‘crumby’ (scuse the pun) your rich tea biscuits were and you are disappointed you didn’t realise sooner! Horsham is like that. A town that is neither stunning nor terrible, which is it’s downfall…. it’s down right banal!
The tory government seemed to have been invented in this god forsaken town, so entrenched into the fabric of the town I’m surprised the fast disappearing fields in between it and Crawley aren’t made of tweed!
I’m sure if Tony Robinson went for a dig with his mates he would have found an ancient tory burial site just outside Faygate, which, incidentally, is so **** that one train per year bothers to stop there. This is probably on account that when they do, the train driver has to OD on Pro Plus so that he won’t fall sleep before he pulls away from the station!
Horsham has undergone major redevelopment in the past 20 years or so. In fact what little character the town had has been removed as if it were an ever so embarrassing boil on the end of its nose!
I have never seen a town that even a McDonalds couldn’t even make a go of, the only decent burger joint in town is….. oh sorry, I said decent – the only burger chain in town now is Wimpy – yeah remember that chain from the 70’s and 80’s that you thought, or rather hoped had gone bust? – no, no, no…still going strong in Bore-sham! I’m sure there must be a C&A lurking somewhere in the outskirts as well – all but forgotten!
Horsham now is full of wannabe’s, people who drive fancy cars, live on tick, talk out their **** and don’t have a pot to piss in but like to say they do.
The residents mostly work in London but can’t afford to live there so blight the Sussex town with their gnarly, snooty, condescending attitudes. If you’re unfortunate to visit Littlehaven Station you would think the entire area was a bloody car park with the amount of cars parked up with people grabbing the train to the big smoke. It’s got so bad the council have had no choice but to paint double yellow lines over virtually every nook and cranny in the area! You’ll still get some arsewipe decide to park their BMW in a residents car park and think it perfectly fine to do so while they go to a snorefest of a meeting in London the for the month!
When I lived there you couldn’t even have a good night out. In a town of 27,000 you’d think it would warrant at least ONE nightclub? Nah, you have to go to that other hellhole Crawley for that! The council didn’t feel the need for it, that’s cos the council is full of people whose hobbies include reading People’s Friend magazine, flower arranging and bowls. The closest any of them will ever get to a night club is a tea and coffee evening at the women’s institute!
When I was at school a roller disco was a highlight but even that came to a halt when bad behaviour got it scrapped. The swimming pool has got better since I left. I can only guess that they needed a bigger pool for all the people who wanted to drown themselves after a night out at the capitol theatre in North Street!
The Malt Shovel (when it use to be called The Mitchells Arms) used to be an alleged hive of criminal activity back in the day. I went in there once and came out after five minutes when someone threw ammonia on the floor with eyes streaming. Probably a nice wine bar now with people who hold their glasses with two fingers! In the Mitchell back in the day, you were lucky to have the use of any of your fingers, you certainly didn’t have the use of any of your faculties when you’d spent the night there!
Drinking in pubs was all you could do when I grew up in Bore-sham, then you’d retire to the park to drink a bottle of white lightning or thunderbird with ya mates because you hadn’t quite drunk enough to imagine you were somewhere else.
However it could far be worse, you could go nine miles down the road looking for redemption and end up in the crotch of West Sussex – CRAWLEY!
