Holbeach in Lincolnshire, The town that Lincolnshire forgot. A giant open plan retirement home full of people from “Darn Sarf”. It’s so dead all you can hear is the distant whirring of the “mobility scooter”or the repetitive yapping of the far too numerous dogs that seem to be the “must have accessory” here.
If you go to the only supermarket make sure you take your pan shovel as it’s like a scene from “Shaun of the dead” in there, but be careful as the wrinkled ex “savveners” congregate in little groups in the aisles waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting yeller belly that dared to remain in the town so take them out quickly!
You can get anything you want off the Saturday market, as long as it’s veg from the one and only stall. On a Thursday you can get dead things from the sea too as another seller comes to spend a long lonely morning here, watching the “undead” shuffle past as they go between the supermarket and the GP surgery of impossible appointments.
Wander in to the High street if you dare, but be careful you don’t trip over the tumbleweeds blowing down the road. A few years ago a van parked in town used to have “last business to leave town please turn out the lights” on the back. They have and they did! only other place on the planet with less sign of viable life must be Pripyat in Northern Ukraine.
Only thing the depressing hole does have have in abundance is hair dressers, takeaways and charity shops. Such is the demand for blue rinse hair dye it is delivered in a converted fuel tanker once a week, the vehicle once empty is used to outload 26 tonnes of dog **** from the local park or “our dog toilet” as it has become known by the “savveners”. The charity shops stock a plentiful supply of secondhand “George” jogging bottoms and hoodies for the local proliferation of imported cauli cutters.
It’s grim here, don’t come!
