OK, it’s been said before, but this place is crawling with **** ****.
It has become the favourite pastime of the ******** to breed with as many ***** as possible, thus enabling large 4 bedroom houses and £40+ K a year tax free and without lifting a finger.
Clearasil products fly off the shelves, in ***** pockets as they do a runner from the shop.
But best of all … MaccyD’s is THE evening hangout for the **** and his car, exhausts easily big enough for his seed to be lost up their with excitement. I know, whilst shopping there I have seen them!
But, best of all … I walk past a total **** house everyday!!! This sad ******* (I am sure he is a ******* … it’s how ***** breed) actually has a Ford Focus Raleigh Car replica, which I have seen at MaccyD’s and I have to say, he drives like a complete ******! I have walked past this house many a weekend and he seems to sit in his car on his drive playing his music with his SubWoofer blairing … I assume he must annoy the **** out of the other residents!

Down with *****!!

basingstoke, also known as blazingstoke (named after the group blazing squad), basingrad (after starlingrad) and many more witty titles that **** could not understand. Know matter where you turn there is always the lingering smell of *****, walk down festival place and after five minutes you’ll be stabbed, burnt with ‘ciggies’ and worst of all blinded from the reflection of thousands of white shoes. If you flee to the roads you are welcomed by sad ***** who drive around and want the rest of the town to here the sad music thats blaring away in there car. mc donalds or ‘maccyd’ seems to be the worst hit place, the first thing that happens when you walk through the door is being hit by the smell of unwashed ***** huddled around a peice of lard in a bun. Yet my **** hating friends there is salvation, slowly but surely rock is dripping through the sad decrepid defences of R’n’B, although it is in the form of emo’s and goth’s it’s none the less being a rock area, instead of ***** that are half your size coming up to and yeling ‘ARE YOU STARTIN MAAAAATE?’ there know people who just cry when you look at them.

The amount of teenage mothers around is plain sad, considering the fact they’ve already made spawns of smoke ridden burbery wearing ***** you would of thought they’d stop presenting them selves like they want to get boned till 2025 (this by the way is the life expectancy for any **** born 2 minutes ago)

Education dosent really exist in basingstoke, due to the lack of intrest and the fact all the teachers have seem to lost the will to live let alone teach, i how ever have seem to exscaped all this **** (im only 14 and im droning on for hours) so like communism, ***** are soon going to crumble and die in the sad burbery like ****

so until next time, kiss my burbery and call me hard
(more…)

Aka Amazingstoke because you really are amazed by the amount of ***** ***** there are. They seemed to start ******* around in the late 90s and yes you’ve guessed it they’ve been breeding since – Argh!

The teenage mothers can be seen generally pushing their buggies into the back of your ankles in the shopping centre, Festival Place. The townies can be spotted a mile off with their nasty JJB tracksuits and spanking white trainers – generally around the eating area, which as you can imagine really puts you off your food.

I would like Amazingstoke in the top ten as it’s worse than most i’ve been unfortunate to come across.
!AVOID AVOID AVOID!

Basingstoke – even the name speaks of drudgery, greyness and pollution. I went to 6th form (and worked Saturdays) in the place for several years, and although they’ve tarted up the centre a bit recently, the ***** are still very much alive.

It’s a town that has been designed around, and utterly sacrificed on the altar of, the private car. On the plus side, this means it doesn’t get jammed up as badly as, say, Swindon, if you actually have business in the place, and there are remarkably few pedestrian-friendly cruising strips for the Nova-boys to show off their crappy Max Power wheels to impressionable jailbait. The flipside is that the populace are hemmed in by roaring ring roads and forced into dank subways and concrete labyrinths when on foot. Given the sewer-like surroundings, it’s not surprising that the dominant bipedal species is **** Rattus Norvegicus (Ratboy).

The north of the town is made up of residential estates such as Oakridge (fairly ******), Chineham (very ******, with a big Tescos) and Popley (uber-******). Some of the Popley houses have little slits for windows, presumably because these are a much harder target for a stoned **** to take out with a brick. The leafy south of the town, with the cricket ground and nicer houses, is a little more civilised, but the graffiti artists there still spell their favourite phrase “Fuc Off”.

There are remarkably few famous people from Basingstoke, but a definite ****** trend emerges. Falcon from Gladiators, Fergie (the semi-royal *******, not the Man U one) and Liz Hurley all hail from these parts. You don’t think Liz Hurley is a ****? Well she was when she was at Queen Mary’s College – pink hair, piercings, the lot. I actually went to QMC at the same time as Tanita Tikaram, who wasn’t ****** at all, but the daily sight of all the ***** made her write some very depressing music.

The sad thing about Basingstoke is that it really fancies itself as a top place to live. Pour enough money into a town and it starts to get ambitions well above its station. It likes to think it’s another Maidenhead, when it’s really just a Bedford with a few quid in its back pocket.

Top **** hangouts are the bus station (never!), anywhere in the town centre but especially near Woolworths, most of the public parks – ideal for al fresco glue sniffing – and outside The Other College (Basingstoke Tech). Any town centre pub will be packed full of chavdom, so it’s not worth going into specifics.

Basingstoke also has a thriving (OK, maybe that’s the wrong word) population of tramps, which as we all know are grown-up ***** whose girlfriends have left them and whom the CSA have bled dry. Once when I worked at Sainsbury’s in the town centre, a tramp came in and tried to smuggle out a bottle of Scotch by laboriously trying to stuff it down the front of his urine-soaked trousers. The manager that eventually carried out a citizen’s arrest nearly had urine-soaked trousers himself, he was laughing that much.

Ahhh, Basingstoke! Famous for it’s roundabouts and general awfulness, it now has a new draw for ***** from all over Hampshire – The Festival Place shopping centre.

You begin to realise the true **** horror that awaits you inside as you make your way into the car park. The entrance ramp is full of obnoxious adolescents in their pathetically enhanced bangers conducting a competition for the loudest stereo/exhaust and the most over the top engine revving. It must also be remembered when inside the car park that ***** can’t read the directional signs (possibly due to the illegal tinted windscreens) so it’s quite possible you will turn a corner and have to slam on your brakes to avoid the oncoming **** wagon, packed to the gunnals with ***** and their ‘Wilkinson’ shopping bags.

Once you’ve made your way into the shopping centre, you will be overcome by the number of ***** parading around, most swigging from the largest McDonalds cups, which isn’t surprising when you look at them. It’s quite reasonable to assume that none of them have ever eaten a vegetable in their lives.

The Basingstoke ***** that you can see in Festival Place seem to have a genetic modification that renders them impervious to cold. So, be prepared to see rolls of belly fat protruding from short t-shirts and ******* over the waistband of their cropped trousers at any point in the year. It’s also possible that these midriffs will not only be pasty white, untoned but also decorated with piercings. Nice. Shoes will always be one of two types – designer trainers or cheap and nasty designer copies. Bags, similarly, will be rip-offs (probably purchased from Blackbushe Sunday market but that’s another story altogether) or the **** will carry all their worldly goods in a plastic sport shop duffel bag – oh, the class.

Main **** gathering points are the entrance by the cinema (Burger King is here and as we know, these always attract *****) and the exit leading towards Wilkinsons and the various pound shops. ***** can be found grouped around these exits in large numbers. Feel free to observe them at length because they’re so engrossed in texting the person standing next to them that they won’t be able to see you.

For pure amusement value, say in a loud voice ‘Oh, there’s a sale on baseball caps in JJB Sports’ or ‘They’re giving away phone top up vouchers in Carphone Warehouse’ and then stand well clear of the stampeding hoards who would commit any crime (even ones they’ve not yet done) to get some freebies.

If you need some time out, head into Marks and Spencer or Costa Coffee – these shops seem to scare ***** (Costa especially because of the ‘foreign’ words on the menu)

However, possibly the most deadly form of **** to be seen in the centre is the young mother **** – the pushchair she’s pushing will be laden down with **** and she’ll also be trying to steer the thing with one hand whilst either talking or texting or cramming a pretzel into her mouth and managing to remonstrate with ‘Kyle’ or ‘Paris’ at the same time. They can flatten you and break legs without breaking stride so you have been warned.

So, come to Basingstoke and enjoy the ‘delights’ that Festival Place has to offer.

Basingstoke has not only the highest concentration of ***** but must also qualify as having the ugliest ***** as well.

The new shopping centre is awash with fake burbery and the squeek of cheap white trainers on the fake marble floors. Every other person is a fat teenage mother with three kids of different colours all under school age eating wotsits and drinking diet coke. Or a spotty **** wearing so much cheap bling that their weak backs can hardly take the weight of their Elizabeth Duke 9ct gold plate chains and sovereign rings.

A particularly high concentration can be found on market day outside the McDonalds and next to the ‘unlock your mobile’ stall selling burberry plastic covers for your phone.

Basingstoke is Chavtastic.