They're actually the most annoying little group of people you're ever likely to meet. .
The main shopping area in Scumderland is called 'The Bridges.' As you can see, it seems to be advertised by a Kings of Leon reject with a tea cosy on his head. I can only imagine that this is to entice young, hip and trendy teenager types to come and walk around the god forsaken place.
If they're anything like me (they're probably not) they'll immediately want to leave as soon as they enter. The population of the place consists of Kamikaze toddlers who seem to have some form of disorder where they suffer from permanent dizziness, Mums (or Mams) pushing about 17 babies in a pram the size of a tank, and Pensioners doing their weekly shop.
For me, as someone who likes to get from A to B using the most direct route possible, being in the Bridges actually makes me want to nail my balls to a tree and listen to those 2 little turdburglars from the X Factor on repeat, until my sanity ceases to be.
Mackems don't seem to possess peripheral vision. They'll stand there for a little bit, browsing at some stuff. Then just as I try to go past them, they'll take a step back and completely cut me off, usually followed by the deafening silence of them not apologising.
Being the lovely person that I am, I'm the one who'll actually move out of the way and let them get on with their lives. Even if I wasn't a nice person, I'd bloody have to. I'd be there for the rest of my life, otherwise. They'd probably just continue staring at me like I had 4 heads and onions for eyes, until one of us succumbed to the ravages of time.
I was in Tesco today, buying teabags and other such mind blowing items. When I was done, I paid at the self service thingymajig, which is usually a simple process, But wasn't today. Anyway, that's neither here or there
I accidentally forgot to pick up a fiver of the change I'd been given, So whilst I was packing my bag, and prepping myself for my re-entry into the Bridges, I heard a voice that sounded like a bag of iron filings go: "Oi, 'scuse me!"
I turned around to see a Tesco worker pointing towards the fiver, looking genuinely pissed off that I'd had the audacity to leave 5 Great British Pounds languishing in the change tray of the machine.
I went back to pick it up, and thanked the woman. She looked like I'd just punched her mum! (Or Mam) I'm pretty sure she snarled at me. I thought shop assistants (or whatever the hell her job is) where meant to be friendly?
My final complaint is about last Friday night, or about 2 O' clock Saturday morning if you want to be specific. I was walking home from watching a few films with the lovely residents of 3 Langton Close, when some lad came up to me and asked me to buy him some alcohol.
I thought it was a bit weird that he was asking me at this time of night, and that he needed someone to get it for him (He didn't look much younger than me, if at all), so I simply said (innocently enough) that nowhere was likely to be open.
So yeah, You'd expect him to say something along the lines of "Fair enough, I knew I was a stupid retard to ask someone at this time" But no... The little shit decided he'd quite like to give me a Kirkby Kiss.
It hurt quite a lot and made me be all "Wtf!?" and stuff. I Then realised that he was more than likely to carry on trying to hurt me, So naturally, I hit him, which made him run away... That was a nice surprise.
A few days on, and my hand still hurts and is all cut up from where I connected with his pathetic little face, and I have a stupid looking cut on my right cheek. But most of all, I came away with a renewed hatred of certain inhabitants of this Town... That's right! I called it a Town, not a city! Watch and learn kids.
Anyway... Buy me a pint to help me to recover from this ordeal?
In a bit.
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