The little sister (or possibly mum, auntie, cousin and step-grandmother) of Portsmouth and Leigh Park.
A **** ******** ghetto nestling in the cider bottle and rusty fridge-strewn countryside of the South Downs (recently tuned down as an area of outstanding natural beauty – any connection??). This festering hole was designed as a kind of overflow cess pit for the more established ****-itats of Paulsgrove and Somerstown.
Home to the “Wecock Recking Crew” who’s aim it seems is to further deface the very filth in which they live.
Local attractions include the community centre – home to the local mother and toddler group (or young mum and snot monkey group), which requires members to have at least eight piercings, two tatoos and one deformity between them. Mothers must attend with the regulation “scrape back slapped down with vaseline” hair and children are required to wear a) a scrunchie (on top of head) with only three hairs pulled into it, or b) an unidentified crust emanating from the eye, ear or nose. Extra kudos can be gained from exhibiting Wecock pets (nits, fleas or scabies).
On Saturdays the community centre can be used as a classy and inexpensive venue for wedding receptions (for the more traditional -and more mature i.e. over 26 – ********), where the bride will be resplendant in white, attended by her bridesmaids (daughters, step-daughters, granddaughters and best friend). The groom will be off his head on stella (this is a posh do after all – no White Lightning tonight) and wearing the suit that gets dusted down for those monthly court visits. The happy couple’s mothers (one of their “dads” may be there, and he may even be a blood relative what with all the incestuous behaviour that goes on in this armit of a town) will start screeching at each other and before too long full-on **** warfare will ensue. This will only end when the local constabulary drop in to pay their respect; then it’s all ***** together againsts the rozzers.
Wecock also boasts several well appointed play areas; mini adventure trails with a host of fun activities such as ****-dodge and spit on the tramp. Other popular pastimes include sitting on walls, pit bull rearing, and urinating in stairwells.
If I had the stomach for it I would go on to detail the wonders of the local betting shop, pubs and eateries – but quite frankly I can’t continue or I will start ranting.
I hope this short summary of the delights of “The Farm” have whetted your appetite for this dinnlo colonised, benefit cheating, stone-clad hell hole.
