b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Rubbish Towns » Page 3 | Search
This is a question Rubbish Towns

I once went to Basildon. It was closed, I got chased by a bunch of knuckle-dragged yobs until I was lost in a maze of concrete alleyways and got food poisoning off pie. Tell us about the awful places you've visited or have your home.

Thanks to SpankyHanky for the suggestion

(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 11:07)
Pages: Latest, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, ... 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Too many to mention
I was born and brought up in Nuneaton. It's main focal point is a landfill that dominates the skyline, and the council built a ring road through the middle of the town centre and allowed two out of town style supermarkets to be built in the middle of town.
Everyone has been through Nuneaton on the train, only the foolish have ever got off.
For years nightclubs had to provide food in order to get a late licence and a lasting legacy of this is hot dog vendors INSIDE at least two of the two's clubs now.
It really is a shit hole, which has named everything they could after Mary Ann Evans, a woman who pretended to be a man to gain fame. Very little is names after its other famous 'son' Larry Grayson, a man who acted like a woman to gain fame.
Shows what a twisted little town it is.
However, after leaving Nuneaton, I moved to Redditch. The most inbred and backwards place I have ever seen. It was horrid, the people were horrid, the buildings were horrid and no night club would allow admission after 11pm. Bloody bizarre shitty little place.
I moved to Rugby next, which was ok, apart from the sheer number of rugby teams in the town, meaning lots of groups of 15 strong men in too tight short sleeve shirts out on the piss every Saturday night, and fighting each other in the town centre at kicking out time.
I gets worse though, much worse.
I then moved to work in Bolton, but lived with my Nan in Swinton, combining the worst of both places. Swinton is over-run with tiny skinny chavs in fake Burberry, Bolton over run with larger proper northern double hard bastards who hit the pub when work finishes at 3 and don't leave until they get kicked out.
After that I moved to Lower Broughton, in Salford and lived in fear. Every day I was scared my ground floor flat had been broken into. Three times in six months it was, and once the locks were changed by the gas board who had broken into my flat to turn the gas off for the people upstairs! The Griffin pub there was the scariest pub I have ever been in.
I then lived in Rusholme and Moss Side before I was forced to move again through work and there was only one place possible that could be worse than the places I had lived previously. Hull.
Within a month I had been burgled, had a flaming rag pushed through my door (the target was my neighbour, the arsonists were idiots) and had been mugged at knifepoint in a pizza shop at 3am.
From there I moved to Leeds. It is lovely in comparison to everywhere else I have lived.
Has anyone lived in a worse combination of shitholes?
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:32, 2 replies)
I once fell asleep...
..on the train home from London to Hatfield, after an evening of consuming alcoholic beverages. When I woke up I was in Peterborough and it was 2 o'clock in the morning. With nothing to do for around three hours I wandered around Peterborough until I found somewhere I could buy some food. From what I saw of Peterborough I was not impressed and have not returned since.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:21, 3 replies)
FelchMyBelch jogged my memory
Methil and Leven in fife are two very horrible places to live.

They're both fucking rough places to be. The type of places where 4 year olds carry flick knives. If this wasn't bad enough they are also two of the most unfortunately placed towns I've ever seen. Leven and Methil are on the coast and situated between a whisky distillery, a marmite factory, a sewage treatment plant and a factory that makes Smirnoff and other such disgusting beverages.

Walking to the bus station in the morning amidst a miasma of shit, seaweed, marmite, hops and something like a cross between a long dead animal & bleach is something I'm very glad i no longer have to do.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:07, 2 replies)
Lowestoft, Suffolk
New Year, 2000: Thousands flocked here to "be the first to watch the sun rise in England". The most easterly point in the UK actually looks like this:


Proving that, in fact, the most easterly thing in England is a Unilever/Bird's Eye factory. Woo.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:07, 5 replies)
Talacre, Wales
1 Beach
1 Caravan park
1 amusement arcade
1 greasy spoon
1 Gas refinery
1 pub where we had the misery to watch a 1 armed, chunky trainer wearing Elvis impersonator do his thing.

Singularly dreadful place.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:07, 3 replies)
Fucking Melksham
Forget Basingstoke, Swindon, Milton Keynes, Chatham, Stafford, Hull, Coventry, Gravesend, Andover, Westbury, Corby, Stockport, Dundee, or any other British hellhole. Even Trowbridge is (marginally) an improvement on fucking cunting shitting wanking bastard cunting felching arsing cunting fucking wanking pissing shitting cunting fucking Melksham.


The definition of a Melksham virgin is an 11 year old girl who can out run her older brother.

The population of Melksham has the highest level of educationally sub normal people in the western hemisphere.

There are rumours that Dell are planning on launching the “Melksham keyboard” – specifically designed to enable residents to be able to type - with 6 fingers on each hand they struggle with standard keyboards (well the 4 residents that have mastered the ability to stand on their hind legs, read, write etc struggle - the rest of the population are too busy pointing in wonder at passing aeroplanes to go and get electricity connected to their mud huts).

99p stores won’t open a shop in Melksham because they think their brand is too upmarket for the place.

Rumour has it that one resident having recently been the first in the town to be introduced to the concept of money rather than bartering is planning on being the first person in the rancid spunkpit they call a town to get a mobile phone – he already thinks he has enough cash for the piece of string & is now hoping to have enough for the tin can by 2013.

I would rather live in the middle of a radioactive medical & chemical waste dump whilst being constantly arse-raped by a Aids ridden Baboon than go with 80 miles of fucking Melksham.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:06, 11 replies)
Methyr Tydfil
Never ever go there. Not ever.

On a bad day when the wind is blowing from the north east, the fetid stench of this hive of inbred DLA claimants creeps its way to the coast infecting all it comes into contact with.

It's the sort of place they'd knock down to build a shanty town and call it a positive development.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:02, 3 replies)
Welcome to Leeds
When I was younger and looking for universities I thought I would have a look at Leeds. It was nearby. That may have been the only reason.

As is usually the case they had 3 or 4 of the existing students show us around so we could get an idea of what Leeds university life is like.

Normally the guides are the sort of zany students that you want to kill after an hour, looking for new victims who they haven't annoyed yet (zany means cuntastic), but on this occasion they weren't so bad.

Which isn't to say they were good at the job. Things started ok, then one of them talked about crime levels, which put us off a bit, another said they lived on the most burgled street in britain, also not a great advert.

The final nail in the coffin was the sentence "last night someone nicked all of the paving slabs from the pavement."

That's a hell of a crime. You have to reeeeeally like crime to get into the mindset where that seems like a good idea, for the following reasons
-it would take ages
-it would require a fair amount of strength
-you would need at least some appropriate tools
-and a vehicle capable of taking the weight
-after putting all of that effort in what you have achieved is getting a bit of free floor

I decided Leeds wasn't for me.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:01, 6 replies)
Hackney, London.
Went there on business once and after the meeting was over our Client insisted on walking my Boss and I to the taxi rank.

He said we'd never have made it there with our laptops still in our posession.

I've probably got to go back soon too :(
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 14:00, 4 replies)
Leven and Methil, Fife
That's Leven as in 'I wish I was Leven' and Methil as in 'ated spirits'.

Myself and my marketing director spent half an hour driving round these two adjacent towns trying to find the location for our business appointment. We stopped and asked three people for directions - one 'fuck off', one incoherent grunt, one man with half his face missing (who couldn't speak as a result).

'Go and ask in that pub,' marketing genius suggests.

'It's called the Steppenwolf', I reply, 'and I'm wearing a suit. Not a chance.'

I think we eventually found our destination just by driving around all the ghastly industrial estates.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:56, 4 replies)
The Las Vegas of the North,

Most people in the Uk have had the misfortune to visit Blackpool. However if you are one of the ones who haven't, don't fucking bother.

Dirty, shitty fucking streets, at weekends its taken over by cunts on the ale, and girls who think wearing fuck all when they are a Size 18+ is great. It isn't love.

There are loads of Polish here, (we even have a Polish Quarter now, we have the highest divorce rate in the country, the highest teenage pregnancy rate in the country, and a massive massive crime issue.

We have some of the highest Council Tax rates in the country, the least Policeman per person rates, the most speed cameras per square mile, however......

We have fucking millions of pretty bulbs on the promenade that twinkle every year and a big ugly fucking tower that does fuck all.

Oh and its a fiver just to walk round the pleasure beach now.


And too add to all that fucking despair and poverty, people pin you against walls with Honda Accords if you look like a bag head.

(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:55, 9 replies)
Can't believe it's only had one passing mention so far.

Has it improved in the last 8 years or so?
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:41, 5 replies)
Suicide Bombers alert!
I lived in Blackburn, Lancashire until I was 12 years old. I lived in the predominantly Asian area called Audley. Soon after we moved out to go live down south cos my dad got a new job placement we heard that someone at the end of our street had been arrested under suspicion of terrorism! It was a shit area!
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:41, 1 reply)
Spent 3 years there for a degree.
Knocked down by a car twice. (both hit and runs)
Mugged 3 times, last time ending up in a very bad way in hospital for a while due to knife wounds.
Caught in the middle of a small riot while trying to drive through a street.
Norfolk never looked more attractive when I eventually came back
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:38, 7 replies)
By sheer accident or pervese design I have managed to live in...
WINSFORD in Cheshire, there is another town in Zummerset that shares its name with this atrocity. Take a small and quaint market town and ring it with housing estates ship denziens of diffrent areas of Liverpool and Machester and mix well with the xenophobic locals creating a 20 year aura of suspision and mutual distrust....there are still residents of Winsford who get on the bus and do their weekly shop in Liverpool, Yes people who would rather take a 30 mile 1 hour Bus journey rather than use the town center! This is normal behavior. Throw in a dual carriideway that was intended to bypass the town, but it was cheaper and more sartorialy eleagant to run it through the center of the town resembling a scar on a diseased buttock. If you want to leave you could try one of the 100's of taxis usually a 10 year old mondeo with a ripped seats and a air freshner that smells like a incontinent drunks vomit. Dont worry though you will exit the taxi within minutes as the taxi driver will be unable to navigate his way to such exotic metropolis as Crewe, Warrignton or Macc. You might be able to leave the town by Rail, but the Station is built on the outskirts of the town a scant 3 miles from the town center.
This is because the Locals fear the Mechanical Noisey Snake that carries people and have been known to offer their many many babies to it to appease the "Virgin" God-These pagan sacrifices have worked and a Argos has been built in town.
It does share a feature with Venice, Yes Winsford too is slowly sinking back into the earth, due to the town being built on hollow caverns,Not sinking fast enough though. The last major architectural work done in Winsford was to build a huge out of town Police station.
Stabbings are common, shootings not so as its hard to find black powder and musket balls and anything else is too technologically advance for the locals to wrap their minds around. There is a unique version of the highway code published in Wisford (Lots of pictures no words) allowing parking on the double yellow lines on the roundabout, lane discipline is a option and indicators are purley for decoration. Because insurace requires paperwork it is not botherd with.

Local Currency is the Cheesy Wotsit, 5 Wotsists are worth 1 can Stella, 5 cans are worth 1/8th of waterd down weed.

I now live in Bridgend and love it.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:34, 14 replies)
I love being underwhelmed by places...
Myself and a friend, en route to somewhere, once stopped off for a full hour to walk around a place called Snodland just because it looked so funny on the road sign. It was exclusively populated by Burberry-wrapped chávs and the air was thick with a feeling of bored desperation.

I also once had a passenger in my car literally jumping for joy in his seat because we were driving through a town called Hextable. Turns out he'd spotted it on Google maps the previous week and laughed like a twat because he thought it was a funny name, and now here was, driving right through the Hextable experience.

There's also a fantastic picture of aforementioned-Snodland-friend in one of the best-named towns we've ever driven through...

Click for bigger (59 kb)

(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:34, 4 replies)
I was born and brought up in Blackburn, Lancashire.
I went to Polytechnic in Coventry and I now work in Burnley, Lancashire.

I now realise why I've suffered with depression on and off throughout my life.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:33, 4 replies)
Without a doubt the worst place I have ever lived. Even friends I've met who were born there say he place is a shit hole.

Don't get me wrong the surrounding areas including Yarm are nice, North Yorkshire Moors beautiful and Newcastle great to go out in but avoid Middlesbrough like the plague. Actually don't avoid it... seriously, if ever you feel that the place you live is bad, just pop up their for a weekend - you will come back think Hull, Basingstoke, etc are veritable paradises.

Highlights of my two years living there at Teeside University (they were too ashamed to call it Middlesbrough?):

1) Picked up mate from train station and walked back to my Halls. On route pass a pub with a bloke staggering out surrounded by two mates... his face pissing with blood having just been glassed. Not too perturbed we get back to mine and drop off his bag before cracking open a couple of cans. Our catch up chat is rudely interrupted by the sound of screeching tyres outside. We look outside to see (on the other side of the car park) two blokes jump out of some convertible chav chariot with tacky custom paint job and start pummelling the shit out of this bloke - stamping the lot - before hopping back into their pimped monstrosity and screeching off. Guy brushes himself off and carries on his merry way. Needless to say nobody does anything as it's undoubtedly drug related. Oh, did I mention this all happened at 2pm in broad daylight?

2) On the very first day we'd driven through the moors up the hill and then seen the massive ICI factory pluming out smoke, which is effectively Middlesbrough. We ended up in the center of town so my mum asked someone where the university was, only to be told there was no university. So we parked up and tried finding someone who didn't look like they killed people just to watch their expressions change. A group of kids converged all aged between 7 and 12 years old and they surrounded a car, fortunately not ours, before starting to rock it from side to side and eventually roling it onto its roof! Sat in stunned silence, we then watched as rather than run away the kids gathered on the bank and waited for the Police. Only when they showed up (in fairness they were very quick) they kids jeered at them at shouted such lyrical gems as "Ahhhhh, ya wankers, you can't do anything!" before finally running off unpursued.

3) Some friends had their door kicked in as they were watching Eastenders by three men in ski masks and armed with a baseball bat. They simply walked calmly over to the TV, unplugged it, said "Alright" before marching out with it.

- Witnessed numerous fire bombings
- Managed to avoid numerous fights for being a Soft Southern twat (bearing in mind they classify people from Leeds (great place) as Southeners?!)
- Didn't always manage to avoid fights and got mugged once... I'm 6ft 3 and fairly well built
- In the first two weeks I was there 6 people were stabbed and two girls were raped

I have lived in some rough places in my life, but nothing compares to Middlesbrough for sheer random acts of violence.

Unsurprisingly, I can honestly say I never ever want to return to that God forsaken place.

Apologies for lack of fluffy humus but never for the length.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:32, 15 replies)
Its up there in britains worst town list. Some 80%* of the population are on benefits and out of work. Kappa slappas abound. Most housing is council estates build with lots of alleyways out of concrete which makes excellent police escape routes. The Lincoln estate was so bad, the council proposed it to be demolished - all of it, houses shops the lot..

You cant go out without being accosted by yoofs who all speak in faux glaswegian accents and pretty much own the place. Even the police steer clear of most of it. Dead bodies turn up in flats decomposing, discovered only by months of decay and smell finally being noticed by the one copper who dares venture into the estates. Oh and that guy who got decapitated with a samurai sword over owing a dealer 15 quid - they found his head under a bush weeks later. Kiddies getting preggers to get housing from the council and benefits. If they dragged the boating lake they would find no end of weapons and dead bodies in there. the council members are all corrupt (or at least were) and this was recently proven by their monumental fail with their coverup over toxic waste dumping in the town (the courts basically spanked the council for allowing toxic waste to not be cleaned up, getting an ass load of birth defects then denying all knowledge. They then did a coverup fail and got caught red handed). Kickbacks abound, as do fights both on the street and in work.

Horribly depressing place to live, steer clear. I spent 12 years there, couldnt get away fast enough once i was old enough.

(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:31, 4 replies)
Redhill, Surrey
A truly awful place, and one that has possibly been designed as social experiment. You see, despite it's utter awfulness, a lot of large financial organisations have seen fit to set up offices there, which means a daily culture clash between people wearing suits and with jobs who have to commute there, and people who choose to live there.

I can't write anything better than this gentleman did:


Although a couple of stories do spring to mind.

Firstly there was the occasion when most of the staff of a subsidiary of a large, Dutch bank found the spectacle of two people having carnal relations at the back of a bus more diverting than their daily, more worthy tasks. People do this sort of thing at the backs of buses all the time, surely, on a Friday night on the way back from the pub. Why, yes. But this was 11am on a weekday, and the bus was parked in a bus stop lay-by in the MIDDLE OF TOWN. And it was the bus driver who was partaking of said carnal delights, in front of 300 people in a tall, glass-sided office block. Apparently it was quite a show.

Or the time when, walking back from a couple of lunchtime refreshing beverages in the town's only decent pub (names withheld to protect the innocent), a man was observed curling a sizeable log out into the gutter. In the middle of town again, did i mention that? At lunchtime.

Other than that we used to regularly go for post-work drinks in a pub called the Stabbot.*

*may not be its real name
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:31, 4 replies)
Dartford in kent
Famous for our tunnel and the bridge! Shite dug up one-way system circling the boarded up high street. Takes 45 mins to drive the 11 miles up the A2 to get to greenwich. Train to london ( 14 miles away ) takes 45 minutes and costs you over £12.90. Everywhere you look there is a fat person on a mobility scooter ( we have 2 mobility scooter shops ) A town that has 3 pound shops, 2 pawnbrokers 2 Greggs 4 kebab shops a kentucky a mcdonalds and no greengrocers.Even the fancy new proper coffee shop only lasted a few months. I spotted the saturday big issue seller peddling his mag outside the post office in greenwich last week. Even he is now commuting.

I love my town, it sucks hardest and that makes me proud.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:31, 2 replies)
Sunny Bournemouth!
Its not bad, actually. It does get the sun a fair bit. Also, in summer it is a heaving mass of attractive foreign students wearing Not Very Much. Bit dead in winter, but mostly Bournemouth is ace!

Of course, it wasn't always this way, oh no. It used to be the place where you sent your unwanted maiden aunts to die. Thus, the entire town used to be run by the kind of shrieking NIMBYs that local newspaper editors learn to know and fear. They used to have a garrotte hold on this place - crowds of them walking really slowly through town centre, right in front of you when you were in a rush. The local rag's letters page ought to have been renamed 'a festial of whingebag harridans'.

The town council was ruled over by them, and would staunchily oppose any suggestions more exciting than larger print in the local libraries. It was horrific living here back then; I'm surprised they didn't try to ban Being Young. Everyone knows a NIMBY but Bournemouth was the OAP dumping ground for the entire south!

Oh yes, things have changed so much for the better in Bournemouth. But like the tiresome plot of any RPG, the hack-toothed NIMBYs just lie in wait, plotting in the darkness, waiting for the chance to be released unto an unsuspecting world once more...

I wonder if Torquay is still the same dump that Bournemouth used to be?
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:27, 3 replies)
Bridgwater is supposed to be pretty rough
although I have heard that you can go bungee jumping there...
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:26, 6 replies)
Hertford, wherever that is.
I went to a stag party in London and woke up in Hertford. I had no idea where Hertford was. I had to Google Map my location and then do a 155 mile walk of shame in a broken pair of high heels.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:24, 2 replies)
This grim, concrete festooned arse wipe of a town was where I grew up in the 70's, an era that taste forgot. It has delights like the appallingy planned satelite estates with names like Winkelbury, Popley and the Berg. These asbestos and paper mache made houses designed to house the London overspill population were filled with the proto-chav parents of the current Jeremy Kyle participating generation.
You could also visit and park in the largest concrete multistorey car park in Europe (at the time)entwined with a shopping centre which boasted 'more shoe shops than Reading!'. This monstrosity of a shopping precinct had wiped out the delightful ancient market town centre in via unmarked envelopes filled grubby backhanders to the certainly corrupt town councilcillors living in the posh untouched pictures box villages that were outside the town. The moniker it aquired was doughnut city on account of its huge number of roundabouts which seemed designed to trap you in its piss stained and shit scented centre. I finally escaped in the mid 80's
and have been back twice both times for funerals and both times not felt the slightest bit nostalgic for the tramps shit filled pants of a town.
length? 12 inches but i don't use it as a rule
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:24, Reply)
Sprinkle liberally with the words 'chav' and 'Pikey'
and wait for smug middle class wankers to slap themselves on the back for living in Hoxton
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:23, 4 replies)
I used to work in touring theatre (dahling) and have visited most towns in the UK, literally. The worst 3, without doubt, are:

1 - Gainsborough, Lincs. Absolutely no shops, everything shut, full of cunts. When we got there the local paper was running a competition to win a car alarm. The question - guess the value of cars stolen in Gainsborough every year. (apparently it was at that time the car-theft capital of the country, though why you'd want to steal a 10 year old Ford Fiesta with no wing mirrors and undercoat instead of paint is beyond me.)

2 - Billingham, Co Durham. It was built to house the population of workers for the local ICI factory. Technically, therefore, everyone who lives in Bilingham is a factory-working chav, and since the ICI factory shut down I'm guessing the entire town is unemployed.

3 - Keighley, Yorks. There is no discernible reason to ever visit, let alone live in, Keighley.

And a bonus (4) while I'm at it - East Dereham, Norfolk. My brother lives there so I have to visit occassionally. There was a nightclub called Splits, since shut down after the owner was murdered I believe. I have never in all my life seen so many in-bred country-bumpkin farmers / squaddies. If Deliverance had been filmed here it would have been set in Norfolk, and East Dereham would be the bit where they get bum-raped.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:21, 5 replies)
Without doubt the most horrific places in Britain....depressing cancer ridden dens of small minded inbred CUNTS. I suggest to anyone to have a look through their local paper online. GRIM GRIM GRIM.

Here is a link to my most recent favourite headline...

(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:18, 8 replies)
Saarbrücken (pearoast)
I was in Germany for work purposes. I'd been sent to Saarbrücken with three colleagues and we had been left to our own devices over the weekend before a Monday morning meeting. None of us spoke German. No one in Saarbrücken seemed to speak anything else, which I found reasonable given that we were in Germany. We got by with a hint of mime and a hastily bought dictionary, but in two nights there we had frequented both the Italian and Spanish restaurant because we knew we could order food with some fluency; specifically food that did not involve sausage or cabbage.

Our stay was not without its touristic highlights. It began with the hotel, conveniently situated on the outskirts of town in what appeared to be an industrial estate. The methadone clinic and bail hostel across the road provided some nervous interest, as did the velour leopardskin print and mirrored ceiling in our total of two rooms - rooms which contained only a double bed which perturbed us as, close colleagues though we were, we weren't that close.

Fortunately, town was a mere 30 minute walk away through the red light district so we bravely ventured forth to see the sights. "There are seventeen interesting sights in Saarbrücken," announced the sign. "One: the church architecture. Two: the church door. Three: the church interior. Four: the square in which the church is located-" We lost the will to live and went for a coffee, which the waitress spilled all over my friend.

On the final night we lucked out. We found an Irish bar. Now there's a home from home. Irish bars do tend to be a-bicycle-on-the-wall-and-a-signpost-to-Galway affairs, but needs must when the divil drives. Besides, I'm Norn Irish. It's my natural habitat.

The Irish bar turned out to be run by a New Zealand bloke but he gave us a warm welcome, as did the other patrons who insisted on buying me whiskey to celebrate my genuine Irishness. The night wore on, the drink flowed, and a tall blond German in leather trousers took a distinct liking to me.

Then it all went sour. Too many whiskeys on top of fine teutonic lager took their toll and I dimly remember a lengthy episode of vomiting into the ladies' toilet. When I returned, weakened, the tall blond German in the leather trousers saw his opportunity and pounced, tongue lolling like a great dane hanging out a car window. I did not want to be kissed (badly) by a tall blond German in the leather trousers, nor, I'm sure, did he relish the clinging taste of vomit in my mouth. Seeking my escape I looked hurriedly round the pub. One of my friends was backed into a corner, petrified, being propositioned by a butch lesbian in a lumberjack shirt and a haircut that wouldn't have looked out of place in 1985. Another was loudly proclaiming "but I LIKE Jews" to the neo-Nazi who wanted to show him his gun collection. My third friend somehow managed to divert attention long enough to usher us out the door and into the long walk back to the knocking shop we called our hotel.

I spent the next day throwing up into a clear plastic bag on the train back to Frankfurt. Due to the German efficiency of separating and recycling litter I spent a further half hour at the airport trying to decide into which compartment of the bin I should throw my bag of boke.

I have never been back.
(, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 13:18, 4 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, ... 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1