Grim by name, grim by nature
I'm not the first to mention Grimsby, and I won't be the last.

I used to be a market researcher, one of those types who does wanky focus groups. For some reason, my company won a contract to do research into BBC local radio. Now, I could have told them everything they needed to know: men in argyle sweaters, feeble MOR music, listened to by old ladies with cats and people with imaginations that stop at their city borders. But that wasn't enough. My firm thought it necessary to send me to Carlisle (which was really nice), Newcastle-upon-Tyne (has its good points)... and Grimsby.

I forget what time I arrived, because the place looked exactly the same at every hour of the day, but I do remember having to take a 'local' train from some extremely distant place like Coventry. The train had two carriages, which I thought was very optimistic (presumably the return journey to Coventry was usually much more full than the outward).

When I got to the hotel, I discovered it had been converted from an NCP car park without any of that irritating refurbishment nonsense in the interim. You could have walked past it fifty times without realising there were people inside. Come to think of it, there weren't any people outside it, either. Apart from the hotel staff and the people who took part in the focus group, I don't remember seeing a living soul. Plenty of undead, gurning and groaning, yes, but they don't move very fast.

The focus group was a laugh. Yes, a laugh. One laugh in the entire two hours. What made my brain goggle was that the good folk of Grimsby considered themselves superior to the people of Hull, over the other side of the Humber. "They're not like us," they said. Presumably Hull people have a pulse. One man boasted that there was a house on his street on sale for £19,000. "You could afford that, easy," he told me. "Yes," I nearly replied, "but then I'd have to live in Grimsby."

The weather was grey. The buildings were grey. The hotel decor was grey. The people were grey. Even the food was grey. Grimsby Grey - Dulux are working on it.

I thought Liverpool was horrible when I went there, but at least it had some character.

Penis joke.

[EDIT: Thanks for reminding me about the smell of fish. I don't have a very good sense of smell, but I did detect a lingering scent of marine produce. That was grey, too.]
( Sonic the Hedgetrimmer doesn't care what you think, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 17:20, 4 replies)

Starting to notice a pattern emerging...
Gainsborough, Boston and Grimsby. All Lincolnshire's finest.
FUCKING strange accents and the local dish appears to be chips with cheese on.
Lunatics.
( Sallyrsm, Thu 29 Oct 2009, 17:22, closed)

I've been there twice with choir
It smells of fish in Grimsby.

One of the times I went there, I injured myself, an injury that has blighted my life ever since (had ligament recon last year as result. I just fell over for no reason and buggered my ankle).

That is all.
(Clarabelle is reverting to type on, Fri 30 Oct 2009, 1:01, closed)

I've lived here for 24 years.
It's one of those places that you have to appreciate in a different way. Like when I went to Crewe, and then came back to Grimsby. That felt special.
(django0909, Sat 31 Oct 2009, 19:27, closed)

Well, I've been to Crewe
but only to the railway station, whence I was picked up and whisked into Cheshire. So I don't know if I can truthfully say I've been to Crewe. What I saw didn't look half as horrible as Grimsby, but it's not a scientifically rigorous comparison.
( Sonic the Hedgetrimmer doesn't care what you think, Mon 2 Nov 2009, 15:24, closed)