“Ah, Great Yarmouth. One of the only towns you can smell before you can see it. Usually because the smell turns you blind.”
Great Yarmouth is the number one holiday destination for the chavs, elderly and deceased of the United Kingdom. It proudly boasts the greatest number of people with the lowest collective IQ in the whole of the northern hemisphere and is only beaten for number of Portuguese residents by, well, Portugal.
Yarmouth was first discovered by Sir Walter Raleigh in the middle ages, who promptly created the River Yare in order to keep any residents from escaping. He added the 'Great' to the beginning of the name in the world's most ironic use of the English language to date.
The large majority of the population are Chavs. Many of the residents of Yarmouth pride themselves on the ownership of an ASBO. The council are considering giving the whole town an ASBO to save the trouble of having to send them to the right address. The local mothercare has also started stocking Cider in order to appeal to the next generation.
The local mothercare has now been shut down after multiple ram raids, burglaries and thefts of the cider. Many of the chavs that have attempted crimes on this mothercare have worn ridiculous outfits to try to persuade the staff that they are babies. Mothercare staff have been warned that a 'baby' with a moustache is not necessarily an older chav mimicking babies, but the result of multiple generations of inbreeding that Yarmouth is renowned for.
Inbred families save money at Christmas as their Uncle and Dad (or Auntie and Mum) could be the same person - hence halving expenditure on presents and cards. The augmentation of this situation has been blamed for the slump in shop sales (M&S reported losses of 50 new pence for the year 07/08 - shop Director Mr. Izakunt Spazzmosis last week handed in his resignation for this 'monsterous failure' as he put it and denies having oral sex with a customer's poodle whilst hidden under a clothing rail). Forensic investigations are underway at NorthWait Hospital.
Social Trends, Language etc.
The average age for reproduction is twelve, and double-buggies are seen from the age of 14. Grandmothers at the age of 27 are often seen. The average mass of a single mother (not including Argos ankle chains) is 22 stones. Prospective visitors to Yarmouth who have children (of any age) should be aware that contact with the atmosphere alone can induce pregnancy and consequent welfare dependency. Tattooing and piercing of babies and children is widespread. Inhabitants have a congenital phobia of natural fabrics and wear their traditional costume of shell-suits and track suits from an early age. For the more intellectual of the population coach trips are arranged to view avocados and such exotica in other areas. There is no Asian population - they have more sense. Average size of television screen (despite Yarmouth having a per capita income comparable to Chad) is eight feet.
Imaginative language skills are limited to naming their children "Summer-Jade," "BSkyB", and "Diamond-White."
Christmas dinner for the, for want of a better term, classier residents consists generally of Happy-Shopper Potato wedges, cider with a dessert of Haribo sweets topped with Angel Delight. Otherwise, it's chips with special 'Christmas Sauce' (glitter and glue).
Source: "The Life of the Yarmouth Primitives-a study" Dr.James Dweeble, University of Tulsa (2006)
After a recent flock of pork and cheese that have entered this town the 1st language is now portuguese. People of have responded to this by learning pork and cheese to be able to fit in. Common phrases used by yarmouth people while speaking to portuguese is Grass-your-arse, and ... well thats about it really.
If due to some kind of aneurysm you would still like to vist Yarmouth, here is a helpful guide:
If you get lost and find yourself heading towards Gorleston, don't stop (even when you get to Lowestoft), carry straight on to felixstowe, where you can get a ferry out of the country.
When visiting Yarmouth you may encounter the 'local gang' which consists of Brendan McMmanus who is a disgruntal small man bent on mass destruction of all things that are taller then him (4ft 6inches). Many people say he is the ring leader of the group but experienced people of Yarmouth will know Chris Haylett is the deceiving, conniving maniac. He seems quiet but dont let his fragile appearance fool you. once made angry his eyes bulge and he screams in a high pitch voice 'Fuck da police' and attacks violently. The last member of the dastardly trio is Simon page. Simon is the thug of the group the dumb henchman if you will. Simon Page has no real intelligence but does like to pride himself on using long words such as "steal" and "mug" (warning when wondering the damp streets of Yarmouth if you hear the echo of your antics, regardless and observation just run, run like you have before because that is the echo of SIMON). Recently the gang has had a downfall. Chris has become louder and Simon has continued his sentences after "steal" and Brendan McManus is still small. More reports later.
Yarmouth boasts many wonderful attractions including:
- Market Gates Shopping Centre - A mouldy, piss-drenched, useless piece of architecture housing the most up-market shops in the town. ('F Hinds and D2') But if you like old ladies showing their stocking tops and yellowed knickers, it's the place in which to loiter.
- The Pleasure Beach - Contrary to common belief, the pleasure beach is neither pleasurable, nor a beach. All rides fall under one of the following thrilling categories : Old, Boring, Dirty or Out of Order. If a ride is none of these things, it has been stolen. Visitors note: if you want your adolescent daughter and her giggling friends touched up by a dodgy fifty-year old with tobacco stained fingers and greasy long hair, when he spins the Waltzer this is well-worth a visit. Do not forget to pay £3 to win something worth £2 (if you do win) on one of the "games stalls."
- Britannia Pier - Kindly caters for all types of residents of the town:
- Local Youths are treated with a playpark to vandalise.
- The elderly and/or foolish can go watch top name acts perform in the theatre, such as Joe Pasquale and The Chuckle brothers.
- Unfortunate travellers can throw themselves off it.
- Britannia Pier - Kindly caters for all types of residents of the town:
- The James Paget Hospital - Built by local mayor Jim Davidson in the late 1990s, who needed a place to nurse his career.
- A number of Sex Shops with a rather sleezy 1970's retro look. Particular local specialities in "fun wear" are open-crotch brushed-nylon basque sets for the larger child (size 24 and above) - a snip at £14.99. KY and chips are served to entice the punters.
- Their own Nelson monument: "Nelson's Colon". The designer reportedly threw himself off the Colon because it had been built the wrong way around. Local historians once speculated what would he would have done if he'd noticed that he'd put the wrong person on top of it.
- The Marina Centre, famous for weekly wrestling shows run by the pikey wrestlers from Norwich, the Knight Dysentery.
The Local Council recently wasted eight million pounds (40 million cigarettes in local currency) renovating the seafront. Whilst the IKEA fairy lights and extra-wide pavements for even-wider residents have been applauded, local Chavs have complained about the lack of all-night off licenses. On the plus side, it has given them something to drive their novas around on.
Recent work on the market place has included the installation of all-round Christmas lights and a large wide screen television that broadcasts 'GYTV' but now, thankfully, has been torn down. The increase of chip stalls in the market place has led to a recent boom in the pigeon population. Local residents are said to be pleased at some intelligent company at last.
Probably the epitome of crass, Regent Road is located between the town centre and the seafront.
Some of the more memorable shops and attractions on Regent Road include:
- 'We Are the Music Man' - A grammatical treasure trove selling music merchandise. Many "Irish Classics" and such like and an "Adult Section" which includes 1970's soft core porn but sadly not "DIe Damen Toiletten Funf" which I've been looking for for ages... never mind...
- 'Louis Tussauds House of Wax' - Recently labelled 'The Worst Waxworks ever' by The Mirror, visitors marvel at the incredible likeness to historical figures such as Margaret Thatcher the waxworks hold, before realising it's actually meant to be Boy George. Also includes modern stars such as Starsky and Hutch Uri Geller and George VI (the last mentioned is for some reason green - my mother went through the war and she tells me he wasn't green - he had a stammer, but he wasn't green....)
- 'Tickles' - A joke shop with a large figurine of a man vomiting into a bucket outside; a common reaction to Yarmouth for most holiday makers. Plastic turds and scabs can also be purchased to remind one forever of the cuisine and the pupulace. There is (a few yards away) a Rock Emporium and "Factory" where on the many high-season rainy days you can amuse yourself and others by having your own rock made - with the words "I LOVE ANAL WITH THE ELDERLY" or simply "INCEST" running all the way through. The people who serve you you cannot read - they will not catch you as you place and they make up your order - so, an excellent way to scare other visitors.
You may wish (after innoculation) to visit one of a number of Discotheques. Age limit for females is a maximum of 16, although on some nights an age limit at the opposite end of the scale is enforceded: you have to be over 50 and called Pat,... and be "gagging for it..." Remember however not to get involved in one of the long-running family/friend feuds which can last for twenty years ("You called me a slag in 1997..."). The more libertine visitor is warned against using the services of "high-class" 'ladies of the night' who will "toss you off" for £4 (£3 in School Holidays, plus an extra £2 to her friend to mind the double-buggy). Table-dancing is sometimes seen: "so close you could relive the fishing fleets of old" (TimeOut 2006) and there is a swingers' club called "Club Fantastica" (NB this is actually true) where you can meet overweight couples in their fifties - all of them called Pat and Geoff...and have them fiddle with you... but "no watersports" (as a printed - and laminated - sign states)... the place smells of Dettol which worried me when I made an investigative foray to the establishment... no, honestly. I made my excuses and left... all in the name of journalistic truth... really. In keeping with the policy of this site - Fantastica became Phantasia then shut its doors forever, depriving the local avant-garde pupulace of a meeting place to flog themselves silly - thereby allieviating the utter boredom of residence in this Eastern Utopia
Marine Parade (The Golden Mile of Red Bile)
This entry used to consist of just the following:
"The golden mile refers to the sands of the area (obviously) trouble is some load of twats built a sewage treatment plant (aptly named the Marine Centre) and fucked the view up.
They also laid loads of annoying blood red tarmac everywhere and recently put sodding cobbled roads back (which had been removed a hundred years ago previously - using our money.)
The regeneration of the Golden Mile has fallen flat on its face.
Do us all a favour and rebuild Cow Town (existed on site of Marina Centre) and bring back StarForce, Truxton and the dual joysticked Total Carnage for 20p a go and I will revisit what currently only exists as treasured visual recollections and memories. With all the ill begotted monetary gains the council has attained then spent over the years we could been given a further golden mile!"
Which I suspect is written by a "local" who may have escaped for a while (or perhaps is a half-breed, the product of human and Yarmouth connection) so as to learn, to some extent, to write. Typically, however, the writer retains a total insular approach - all this must mean something to him, but to the outside world it is meaningless.
And again, this is surely written by a "local" who ignores the real problems - such as worst education standards in Norfolk, one of the highest teenage pregnancy rates in EUROPE (this is really true). Oh! car parking! Let this be an example of how even those who can read are orbiting a fair distance from the earth. Former entry here:
"I wonder what wanker thought up this pissant scheme to stop people parking their cars without paying a toll.
We are told these fares are to help global warning, which does contain some truth - however, if there is an AVENUE for cash then there is more REVENUE to cash in on.
How the fuck do you get a permit anyway? I should get one cos I lived here nearly all my life. It pisses me off to the back teeth that I can't stop somewhere convenient for 5 minutes whilst I pop into a shop instead of having to PAY for the privilege. - Next the GYBC will be charging Q-tolls (they would make a mint as traffic congestion in and around the town is FKN ABYSMAL - talk about "looks nice on paper but shit in reality"."
Car parking gets you going? You are the man for a sophisticated London professional like me! I want you. You are clearly the only intellectual in Yarmouth.
Local Council Matters - GYBC
The GYBC ((Gormless, Yapping Bastards and Cunts) - not the Great Yarmouth Borough Council)) was granted a charter in 1123BC by the Peruvian God of SnakeSpunk (responsible for building StoneHenge, Niagra Falls, The Local HippyDrone Circus (owned by Peter J-Toker).
The charter allowed the town's council to RIP as much cash as they can out of the already badly mistreated miscreants of South Easterly exposure so their own festering skag and booze related afflictions could be tendered to un-noticed.
In 1985 a massive Town Wall was build around the area of Hall Quay to keep the thieving council and religious bastards out - trouble is the local towns folk are notoriously thicker than a deep frozen dog shit and forgot to put a roof on it.