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Lancaster's enormous contribution to the society of Britainhow empty this crap, not satirical article is. Lookin' for a top qual place? Don't let your eyes wander past the magnificence of Preston. IE I'm sure. No, really, I'll talk a little about the mysterious place named Lancaster.
- It's name obviously derives from the Latin word castra meaning camp. The reason for the use of Lan came from the River Lune. Original, I know. At this point, I could say something not funny like, "Haha, its name comes from camp so that means everyone in Lancaster is camp!" but I'm not gay, so I won't. Erm, early origins are unknown aside from the fact that it barely existed and if it did, it was clearly unimportant as it obviously attracted much attention and recognition for its undoubted brilliance.
“It's a real place?....ha..ha...haaaa...Don't make me laugh.... ”
“Lancaster? I've never heard of it”
Lancaster is a mythical small city in the 'Black Pudding Belt' of the renowned county of Lancashire, in the North-West of England (you know, just outside of London. Basically, you take a right after Wembley and follow the puddings). Other towns in the area include Morecambe (pronounced More-cum and founded by Eric Morecambe at Christmas 1978), Heysham - the best place ever (pronounced He-Man), GreySkull (Where He-Man hangs around and tries to have his wicked way with that lion type thing), and finally Washington D.C.
Lancaster gets its name from two local mental institutes - Loonies, shortened to Loons, which changed to Lan - Caster meaning Spell-caster (who obviously changed all the people into Loons). Hence Lancaster (The magic loony wizard). Some people believe Lancaster got its name from the River Lune (Lans Dale) and the Latin for settlement with a Castle (Caster) hence Lancaster....But that's Bollox.
The geography of Lancaster is perhaps unique to the universe; the lower Lune Valley is so full of human excrement that it is said that the fumes can be seen from space, or at least on Google Earth. The "ghettos" of Ryelands and Marsh, as well as the "shit holes" of Hala and West-End, have the highest rate of illiteracy and incest in the known world. The surrounding villages in the district of Lancaster are well known interbreeding strongholds of Methodist origin. Quernmore, or Quornmore as its local pronunciation reveals, is a [[vegan] settlement founded around the time of Linda McCartney. However, Freehold has a concentration of weed smoking hippies and guitarists and rastafarians.
Erm, the castle is big and brown and holds prisoners and has barbed wire on the top. The excitement is undeniable. Lancaster has a football team. They are top quality shit. They have a stadium called the Giant Axe. Which was built in 500AD when God dropped his axe while drunk (he was aiming for Morecambe) and was carved into its current form by the likes of Neil Uberschar and Wolfie. They are another wonderful attraction, yet another reason to visit this great place. But the real gems of Lancaster are the bus and train stations, yes that's right, when you're in one of those places you know your nightmare is nearly over.
Then, of course, there's LRGS (Nazi Jarmany). Formerly a peanut colony (1986-2001). Many a famous person has graduated from here, including a rugby coach for England. They are much better than you and you should be ashamed of yourself for not being smarter. Central + Ripley + Skerton + Our Ladies < LRGS. Of course, if you're from one of those schools (or live in Morecambe) you wont have a clue what the heck all that meant. It's ok though, half of the shite schools are being shut down due to people actually losing intelligence whilst attending.
Lancaster's economy mainly consists of exporting turds-on-sticks, due to the large turd reserves. However, recently a lot of businesses, for example Soiled Sticks Ltd., have been put out of business due to the increase in turd burglaring across the whole of Lancashire. Unfortunately most of these criminals aren't prosecuted since turd burglaring is classed as rape; and ever since the Treaty of Heysham, rape is not classed as a crime in the North West. The rest of Lancaster's economy is made up of exports of belly button fluff; mainly to the US because they no longer have belly buttons, since they have been inverted due to fatness, and miss the silky texture and musky smell of belly button fluff. Also, Lancaster is the 69th best producer of clogs in the world, after every city in Holland. Apart from Rotterdam, they like laces.
War of the Roses
Not as some people believe a war fought between the Houses of Lancaster and York, but infact a date (July 18th) when all the Roses in the area up root themselves and rage war on the population of Lancaster. The main battle generally occurs when the Roses try and capture the castle. The Attack is repelled by pouring Weedol over the Castle walls. At the end of the day all the Rose casualties are taken and made into perfume. All the human casualties are sent out to sea, along the River Lune, in a burning boat.
Lancaster has a wealth of famous people who claim that they have been born in Lancaster. The Pope, George 'W' Bush, Superman, Jesus, Danny DeVito, Einstein, George Washington, Burt Lancaster, Yoho the bastard (the most illegitimate of illegitimate men) Wesley Snipes, The Chuckle Brothers, Mother Teresa, Vincent van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Second-rate Drummer Fabian Crinshaw (Astounded London by being such a complete prick - a difficult task in Lambeth circa 1754), Mary Queen of Scots, Hitler, Michael Ball, Edith Piaf, Neil Armstrong, Moses, Julius Caesar all have claimed to have their origins in Lancaster... but perhaps the most famous Lancastrian of them all is David Hasselhoff.
Lancaster was once famed for its smell, created by the local animal rendering plant (glue factory). Nightingale Farm burned for the last time after Prince Charles described Lancaster as "smelling worse than my Aunt Margaret's phlegm bucket." The long held Lancastrian tradition of 'stinking like shit' has been kept alive by the landfill site and seagull sanctuary on Salt Ayre, soon to be renamed as Shite Ayre.
In the 15th century, a band of wandering minstrels and players ascended upon the fair town of Lancaster. They wooed the crowd with music, plays and mirth. For three nights did they enthrall and captivate Lancaster's good folk ... until they were tried and hung for witchcraft ... bloody right too! Namby-pamby tight-wearing southerners!
Since then no culture has been allowed (punishable by death) into Lancaster.
A seething rivalry exists between Lancaster and the nearby sovereign state of Yorkshire. However, this rivalry rarely extends to any activities other than being beaten up by Yorkists.
Most people in Lancaster are religious, as people who were not were generally hung for being witches. Therefore the majority of Lancaster's religious population every Sunday are squeezed into this lovely high-Anglican church for a service. If you attend the church seven times a week you will qualify for the role as a Sunday School teacher in which you'll have the huge honour of teaching a load of noisy irritating kids how to act like a donkey. If you want more information on Lancaster Priory visit their website.
Big Green Cock
"Is that a big green cock?" This is often the cry of the new tourist when entering Lancaster for the first time. No, no, no, my little foreign mucker, 'tis in fact a memorial built by the industrialist Williamson in the 19th century. It commemorates the time when he caught the 'clap' from some cheap French whore whilst on a 'business trip' to Bradford. The dirty old git. Anyway it's called the 'Ashton Memorial'. So the next time you visit Lancaster and you think you've seen the 'Green Giant' laying down ready to throw one out, you're wrong.
However, if you want to see a REAL stone willy, go round the coast to Ulverston-in-the-Furnace, where you'll see an ENORMOUS member on a hill.
It even lights up at night to scare the shit out of you.
Alternatively just look at the statue of Queen Liz in Dalton Square from the side and you can see her enormous member.
In the early 1940s, buildings in Lancaster started to explode without warning. It was eventually determined that this was the work of a bomber who the authorites named Timur Arthur Mcardle Ismaguilov - yes that loyal Lancastrian.
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