A random patchwork of violent council estates and traveller sites by the murky waters of the North Sea, makes this town one of the worst places to live in England, even before the extra bonus of the entire Giro cashing population of Hull, Sheffield & Doncaster (three of the nastiest towns in the north) decamping here for the summer months.
Beirut with Seaside Rock & Tat shops, Bridlington offers those of a **** persuasion two additional favourite hang outs aside from the usual joys of wrecking children’s playgrounds or necking Mad Dog 20/20 Kiwi & Lime outside Sports Direct – the “fair” and the arcade.
Both of these are **** institutions, with the fair consisting of a sea of *****, screaming incessantly as they are packed onto badly constructed rides by mean looking ******, all to the backdrop of 300 strobe lights and 3 year old handbag house at ear bleeding volume. ***** could then hit the arcade, where the kids are abandoned to play in the traffic outside the door whilst Mum & Dad (or partner anyway) blow the incapacity benefit on the fruities & jumbo dogs.
If you ever have to visit this god-forsaken corner of Yorkshire, make sure it is out of season, when the smog of Mayfair Superkings clears slightly, you can walk around without having to avoid pools of part digested chips and you don’t have to look at huge crowds of fat, bare midriffed biffers taking their alsatians for a **** on the beach.
