Legend has it the little village of Dyserth was built on Moel Hiraddug, not because of the quarry that is situated at the top of the tiny mountain, but because they could slope the pavements enough so that the limping from generations of genepool-shallowing would not show.
This village runs the gauntlet for the most dogsh*t deposited on pavements, you literally have to look out for pavement amongst the dog sh*t here. It’s like going in a time machine back to the 80’s when pavements were for dogs sh*tting first and walking second.
Lower Foel and Foel road are the most ridiculous streets in the UK. You can just about get a hot wheels car down the road if you ask the passengers to breath in, if you are ever in need of emergency services and happen to be on these two streets you can forget it! Houses are so close together you can literally take a sh*t in your own bathroom whilst simultaneously sitting in your next door neighbours lounge.
The High Street
The high street is a blink and miss it affair. There is a failing corner shop that is a actually only getting by as you [definitely cannot do that, for legal reasons]. A spar shop which employs 99% of the villagers. And an overpriced Butchers that is [allegedly] taking full advantage of the fact there is no public transport to buy reasonably priced and better quality meat literally anywhere else in North Wales. The oddest addition to the high street is a farm shop which literally isn’t a farm shop at all. This cafe [allegedly] sells overpriced underwhelming food and seems to have a customer base which [allegedly] consists only of their relatives, which is handy when the whole village is related to you in some way.
Only Entertainment
The only entertainment in the village is guessing which local pub has been closed by the council for illicit activity this week and watching the school run mums drive literally from their house 2 meters away to fight with other cars to park on the curb outside the school and block the entire road system up.
The school is small and intimate, and by that I mean ran by the only people in the village not to fail all their GCSE’s. The headmaster’s activity is [running a great school with a high degree of professionalism, we are not getting into that legal quagmire!] [when faced] with the onslaught of ch@vs that bring their kids to run amok in the playground before and after school. It is also clear that there is little to do in the village by the ratio of spawn to parents.
Rancid Council Estate
If you don’t live in the fire hazard that is upper Dyserth then you live in the rancid council estate that is lower Dyserth. They tried to disguise the despair that this estate gives by putting it next to a rather pretty waterfall. Rent arrears are clearly spent on cars in this area if the BMW’s outside a 2 bedroom flat with 6 kids residing in it is anything to show for peoples expenditure. People visiting the waterfall can be heard saying ‘what’s that funny smell?’ every time a resident of the estate opens their front door, they certainly aren’t using their money for zoflora and Bold washing powder.
Next to the waterfall is a honesty box for visitors to pay 50p to wander onto the private land to have a look at the natural beauty. This rusted over in 1956 and contains only buttons. Next to the honesty box is a building that sometimes sells ice cream. The opening hours for this lovely well appointed shop are ‘When we can be arsed’. They can never be arsed [allegedly].
Dyserth has a large Mormon community. Even John Smith and his goggles can’t fool a local into accepting an outsider. Royston Vasey is alive and well and transformed to Dyserth. If you have the audacity to buy a house here thinking you will assimilate into the lovely local life, you have underestimated its inhabitants, they will sniff you out and ostracise you.
If you thought Rhyl was an absolute dumpster fire, scratch the surface of this pretty village and you will find even more depravity cast behind the pretty facade.
But the Waterfall is beautiful.
