Well well well, where can I start? Wrexham is the hole of North Wales, the ultimate ne’er-do-wel capital of Cymru (yes, worse than Cardiff!) and the failure of many attempts to be named a ‘city’.
Our town boasts a unique accent. It is a common version of the Northern Welsh accent, exclusive to Wrexham. It all starts with the nasal and short pronunciation of the letter ‘a’ and the disappearance of the letter ‘g’ off the end of most words. It’s hard to describe, but only those who have heard it will really appreciate this exquisite intonation.
Wrexham is a large town with many different areas. We boast a variety of different pound shops; Poundland, The Pound Shop, The £1 Shop – I’m sure you get the picture. Prime time is usually around 3pm on a Saturday afternoon, and the main congregation spot being the Kop, situated at one end of the Racecourse (Wrexham’s dying football ground).
As the evening draws in, many dine out, a la carte, at our infamous MacDonalds. The females gather around the feeding place and watch out for the males as they compete to find a mate. The males take to their cheap Vauxhalls, the lower the better, and loud dance music is a necessity, Scooter being a popular favourite choice. Females also see darkened windows and little LEDs as a good features in the dominant males. As gallons and gallons of petrol are wasted as the males go “lappin round Maccy D’s”, the females present themselves in short skirts, accompanied by a fine pair of fake brown rockports (available at our local market). These are usually accessorised by some large gold hoops and hair scraped back into a ponytail, topped off with a large plastic flower to complete the look.
I give you Wrexham: the rear end of Britain and utter embarrassment of Wales.
