Sunderland – the **** capital of the world! Don’t worry if you’ve never heard of this fair city, the only reason it ever makes the news is that it’s the only city where the BNP made significant gains and the football holigans are legendary. Frankly you’re not missing much.
Sunderland’s only other claim to fame is that it has the highest rate of teen pregnancies in the Europe – which should tell you something about it’s charver (as they’re called) ***********.
From the ‘Burbury’ knock offs being sold in the Town Center (generally caps and knee-high socks), to the shops full of fake ‘bling’, to the boy-racers who speed round town blaring “X gonna give it ya” with the windows down – even though it’s generally friggin’ freezing nowhere and I mean NOWHERE is safe.
However, the worst sight is the town center on any night. I was dragged round once by my friend and, for a ****-spotter, the sight was both interesting and revolting. ********* spilling out of mini-skirts and boob tubes 2 sizes too small, complete with pointy toe stillettos in white singing Atomic Kitten, to the cider-drinking, roll-up smoking ***** with bright white tracksuits tucked into their socks. *Shudder*. Both pitiful and horrendous. It’s far worse but, for my own sanity I have blocked the worst memories out. I challenge anyone who thinks they have suffered from ***** to spend one day in my home town. Then you will truly understand the meaning of both suffering and ****.
