Ahhhh, Leicester, where does one begin? When taking a stroll through town, one cannot help but feel threatened by the sheer amount of what are commonly known as ‘Roadmen’. This is another word for ne’er-do-wells. Now, let it be known – When I say ne’er-do-wells, I do not refer to the poor, simply those who choose to be aggressive and all around a public nuisance. They shout offensive slurs at you and threaten you by any means necessary. Personally, I would not not want to walk down the street by myself at night, only to avoid the fear of being ‘shanked’ as the ‘Roadmen’ say these days. This is another word for being stabbed. Personally, it does not appeal to me as would like to remain among the among the living, rather than bleeding to death on a damp, urine-smelling street.
It is common knowledge that when a baby is born in Leicester, it is immediately given a fake tan and adidas tracksuit, with a nike cap to fit. The mother (average age of 14) is given the choice of three names – Mercedes, Shanequah or Chanelle. Once this process is complete, the young mother will bid goodbye to the young child and off it goes, released into the wild.
Leicester is fondly supported by nearby towns and villages such as Wigston, Oadby and the ever-delightful Swadlingcote (Swad) only 40 minutes along the motorway! If a wild ‘Roadman’ does not murder you in the city centre, visit one of these locations and you sure will be!
For those who may worry about these so-called youths in the city, do not fear! There is a safe house called ‘John Lewis’ where the average middle-class person can feel safe with people of their own class. A safe house for some of the near by towns and villages is known as ‘Waitrose’. PLEASE NOTE: These are the only places you are not going to be threatened or intimidated in the area.
Although, for the city centre, it is to be said, the further you get away from the clock tower, the nicer the shops get. There are some cosy little coffee shops only a few minutes walk away! And if you are not yet convinced this is a classy city, we had a king buried in a car park.
When asked what it is like to be in Leicester, I can only give the analogy of ‘The Purge’ for 365 days a year. One cannot write an article about Leicester without mentioning the ********** capital of the world – Coalville, where three arms and four legs are common place. We don’t yet know if Coalville knows we see them in this light, but they must have got the message by now, am I right?
Weed cannot be located in this city, as the locals deem it “Too weak”. ****** is the drug of choice for the local ‘Roadmen’, which would explain the colossal amount of used syringes and the odd used condom in the street, though a used condom is a rarer sight, which does in fact correlate with the abnormal amount of underage pregnancy.
Education? Look no further than Countesthorpe/Leysland Community College where the old head teacher (not to mention any names) [allegedly and by allegedly we mean for legal reason, definitely did not] spent the schools funding on a nice new Jaguar F-Type, only to leave the school under special measures as he realised the error of his ways and bailed on the school, which was followed by months of officials scouring the school, deeming whether to close it or not.
Obi wan Kenobi once said “Mos Eisley spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of **** and villainy.” Clearly he had never heard of Leicester.
