Delightful seaside town with a nasty ‘jekyll & hyde’ personality, seasonally dependant on hordes of grimy **** brummies and other northern undesirables who swarm in their vans and crewcab pickups down the M5 and clog up the nearest golden sandy Devon beach to the bloated crusty pile that is Middle ChavLand.
Exmouth is a town whose very commercial existence depends on the seasonal influx of *****. Yes, that’s right – we’re all “**** ******”. Face it, during the winter months, Exmouth is triffic. A big reputation as a small party town with more bars & clubs than phone boxes, the only grimy side to the windswept two miles of golden sandy beach are the golden sandy retrievers who **** all over the beach, cheerfully egged on by their laughing owners. At least the tide washes all the doggy doodoo out to sea twice a day. All this bucolic jollity comes to a halt in June, when the ***** start dribbling in, at predictable as the tide but far less useful.
There’s a huge transit camp for ***** to the east of the town called (originally enough) “Sandy Bay” where hundreds of white static caravans litter a once green and pleasant hillside. From far out to see, the Camp looks like a pile of white maggots. Maggots become Flies and fly off. Pity Sandy Bay doesn’t oblige. The road to the town becomes clogged like pie-addict’s arteries with this human sludge, and slow moving groups of these zombies swirl and choke the town centre. This human litter just overspills the town, like they overspill their waitbands, and lie festering on the beach in the sun, decomposing slowly. Smells like that, anyway. The town sewerage system breaks down by August and it isn’t until the Autumn rains start washing out the instant barbies on a regular basis that the flow reverses and they all chug back to the midlands.
This seasonal flow, though ghastly, does leave it’s year long effects. There’s a small but annoying smear of chavvery that lives here all year. They can be seen mainly on the seafront, at night, in cars that would shame a scrap yard. A few dozen Novas, decrepit hatchbacks and Subarus rumble up and down, thumping noises (either they are oblivious to musical taste or their big ends have gone- take your pick) fill the air.
The sad thing is, no matter how much plastic they rivet to the bodywork, or how many blue lights they plug in, they cannot disguise their “FreeAdz Banger” as an Urban Spacecraft. How can I tell? When Luke Skywalker made the jump to lightspeed, he didn’t leave a pile of KFC boxes behind.
So if you want to visit this ‘Pearl in the passage of the Jurassic Coast’, best do it in the winter, when only the locals are annoying. And bring a big gun with you. Plenty of Chavosaurus need to catch up with evolution and disappear from the planet. Good hunting.
