Well, Kings Lynn town, what can I say? Well, how about starting with a simple statement. “Lynn is as big a ****-hole as you’re likely to see, ever”. People from outside Norfolk seem to think Norfolk is full of thick, ****** ignorant *******….a little unfair, unless you’re talking about Kings Lynn. Round here, somehow everyone knows everyone. You **** off someone in a pub, it’ll probably turn out their whole family live in the same house and will soon turn up with their very own **** clan. In that respect, Lynn is a weird place. Not wierd as in strange, we’re talking a whole new level of weirdness. It’s like people come here and can’t possibly escape. Anyway, Perhaps it might be a good idea for me to go into why this is the case. Lets see….this site is called chavtowns, and that’s the main reason for Lynns general unpleasantness. *****. Hundreds of em. Or to be more accurate, thousands of them, and they’ve taken over good and proper. To start with we have the lovely Fairstead estate, the Gaywood (pronounced “gaywoo’t”) estate, Springwood estate, North Lynn, South Lynn, not forgetting the picturesque public loo that is Hillington Square. They even branch out into the surrounding areas, West Winch, Tilney, Middleton, and the like as a result of the council rehoming them away from trouble (that presumably they caused in the first place). If you wish to spot a ****, unfortunatly you don’t even have to bother looking. They come to you, more often than not demanding money or ****, or if you’re unlucky phones, jewellery and anything else they can get their hands on. The main daytime **** haunts are the local bus station where you’ll spot plentiful amounts of single mums with their prams sporting kappa tracksuits, and scraped back hair with the usual gymnastic hoop earings, while the blokes casually smoke joints in their burberry baseball caps, dressed to look like they’re from “the hood”. When it comes to clothing the shop of choice is **** superstore (also known as “labels”), never before have so many **** items of clothing existed under one roof, they even play R ‘n’ B “flavas” on the shop sound system, presumably this makes the ***** believe they’re proper gangsters by wearing all the 50 cent style “threads”. At the end of a long day’s shoplifting, Lynn ***** like nothing more than to visit one of the many pubs about town, usually taking their pick of one of the many venues along Norfolk Street, where they will start as many fights as possible before proceeding to Zoots to do more of the same. When it comes to closing time, they’re all back to Norfolk Street to end the night with a last fight or 2 before returning home, to a prison cell, or the house of a cheap disease ridden Lynn ******* **** for a quick “**** and abuse” session. If they don’t have money for drinks then it’s a night outside an offie with a bottle of white lightening stolen from a shop in town earlier on in the day, before kicking the **** out of an asylum seeker or someones car. Talking of cars, cars and ***** = danger. The typical **** drives an old **** up nova that will do 0-60 in 4 seconds simply because it’s got a max power sticker and a massive alloy wing sitting on the boot. Look in the back seat and you’ll probably see 3 or 4 young **** girls drinking from a bottle of lambrini or babycham, dancing around to the hardhouse beats blasting from the stolen 6 x 9’s in the sheet of MDF parcel shelf (with the obligatory dip in the middle). Ten times out of ten the driver will be wearing the trademark fake burberry cap and as many 9ct gold chains as he can fit round his scrawny little neck.
Anyway, that was **** Lynn, after reading that I hope you all do the right thing and stay away. Trust me, you don’t want to come here, if you’ve ever heard of the phrase “a fate worse than death”, then you’ve got an idea of what life around here’s like already. Just remember, Micheal Caroll lives round these parts, and he’s possibly one of the biggest c**nts on the planet.
