Newcastle Upon Tyne, a quaint city boasting lots of architectural features from which you can hurl yourself off when life in this grey hued eugenics tribute act gets to much [although we at iLiveHere would never advocate this or to use the native language “y’divit wanna dee that pet” and yes, that’s our legal backside covered]. Obviously the best advice I can give anyone is leave via transport but sometimes things like circumstances, abject poverty and the sheer scale of hopelessness promoted on a daily basis means that sometimes an elegant swan dive from one of the lovely structures is in itself a way of leaving. There are famous bridges and as the River Tyne is apparently pollution free you should expire from drowning not breaking your neck on several pushchairs and inhaling ****. It should be quicker than the train and certainly better than the international airport which is really a misnomer.
World Class Slack Jawed Staring
Should you find yourself atop a structure preparing to leap, be warned you won’t be doing this unnoticed, expect no privacy, geordies for some reason love to stare and have elevated this to olympic standards of goggling vacantly. You have to be born here to truly cultivate this. On one level we have the stare a bit like a pleading or helpless dog who has been kicked or a torture victim who just knows it’s never going to stop, these people are in the minority and are most likely to find themselves atop a bridge after seeing all their ambitions mercilessly crushed on the wheel of apathy.
The other level is the much more common to these parts stare, as with most of the denizens of this dung heap, it is a soulless gaze that identifies the starer as one of the many, many small minded, insular, progress hating big mouthed, proudly ignorant citizens. These persons love to spread misery and are the first to record other people’s for their own future enjoyment.
Any potential bridge jumping will piss of the people trying to get home from work, all eight of them… You will also encounter a plethora of men in high vis vests who block up the roads, public transport and every branch of Greggs in this city. These fine dining fans will stand with their gobs open, but rest assured the fog on the Tyne cares little for oral hygiene, which is just as well. The local, frazzled and frankly overworked police will be present, taking some time out from chasing nerdowells who have been rejected by the local paedophiles.
The Pseudo Rich
Lastly, there will be the relatively new addition in the form of the 4×4 driving, screaming, anorexic perma tanned wag wannabe, complete with hair extensions and acrylic nails. Lip fillers in motion like an immigrant dingy attached itself to her plastic face as she addresses her unruly, entitled brood while simultaneously emitting ear splitting gibberish into a diamante encrusted phone to her partner who will be older and fatter but exactly the same shade of creosote unless he is behind bars.
These pseudo rich make up a small but growing breed of Newcastle’s ******** with money. They dwell in the posh bits of the city and are either money launderers, own a building firm or deal drugs. Sometimes all three. They reside in easily recognisable houses next to ‘old money’ i.e. the people who actually went out and earned their coin fairly. These newly minted sorts housing boasts faux pillars, weird two tone gold and black railings and 3 cars in the shiny driveway, each with the hallmark of a class act, the personalised number plate… all parked over the rotting corpses of their competitors. Imagine this being the last thing you behold before you fling yourself into the Tyne. The only way is down….
