Whatever happened to our seaside?

The British seaside has always been shit.

As an inner city London kid, I fondly recall our summer school trips to places like Margate and Brighton. We’d get to school early doors to get a coach out of town.



Nothing has changed now, there are just more crackheads.

How dare you!
Brighton is a beacon of diversity- there are crackheads, yes, but there are also junkies, cokeheads, potheads, homos, dykes, you name it.
But in the words of Gunnie Hartman "you are all equally worthless".
 

sirbhp

LE
Book Reviewer
Seaside = lack of investment and local councils making it hard for people to visit .
 

Chef

LE
Seaside = lack of investment and local councils making it hard for people to visit .
Several years back we went to Brighton to see Loudon Wainwright III getting into the place was a time consuming nightmare, finding a parking spot even vaguely near the hotel likewise.

I'd not want to repeat the experience.
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
How dare you!
Brighton is a beacon of diversity- there are crackheads, yes, but there are also junkies, cokeheads, potheads, homos, dykes, you name it.
But in the words of Gunnie Hartman "you are all equally worthless".
Last time I was there I saw Chris Eubank zooming around the seafront on an electric scooter, while wearing a purple velvet suit.

If he wasn’t minted he’d be locked up.
 
Last edited:
Dit:

A couple of years back I’d ventured into our woods for a night of wild camping and drinking whiskey with my dog. In the morning, I was treking the mile or two home when I had an overwhelming urge to fire out a bum snake.

With no loo in sight, I jumped down into the river and curled one out under a small road bridge.

Just as I was cleaning up, I climbed back out only to bump into one of our tenant farmers.

“Ello Ravers, er….. what you doing under that bridge? Everything ok?”

“Umm, yep, er….. just looking at the underneath of the bridge, ummmm, yeah. Best be getting on.”

Awkward silence.
I have to wonder if it is still there and scaring the Billy-Goats Gruff??
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
I have to wonder if it is still there and scaring the Billy-Goats Gruff??
Not likely, it was on the bank of a small river that rises about 2 metres whenever it rains heavily.

I can safely assume that particular offering has now been safely committed to the deep.
 
I lived in the centre of Torquay from 1986 to 2003 and when I first lived there the harbour had a good working fishing fleet (you could get free dabs). Over the years it declined and became a shitehole of the first magnitude. Our local pub (the oldest in the town) was ruined by new management. I was glad to move to Exeter but that deteriorated so we moved to Sussex. Much nicer.
At least the East coast shellfish fleet is in reasonably good health as long as the Scottish scallop dredgers stay the f@ck away. They are only after the one catch and screw up the seabed whenever they pass, buggering up crab, lobster and other catches as well as ruining their environment.
Another reason for the East coast towns festering was our old pal, Dr. Beeching for axing the coastal railway between Scarborough and Whitby making travel from either direction extremely vexing especially when the coastal bus services cease to run, just in time for Whitby's biggest week of the year. The rail service will tell you which coach to take and from where. The coach company, when queried by telephone, can only groan at the 140th similar enquiry that morning.
 

CharleyBourne

Old-Salt
Dit:

A couple of years back I’d ventured into our woods for a night of wild camping and drinking whiskey with my dog. In the morning, I was treking the mile or two home when I had an overwhelming urge to fire out a bum snake.

With no loo in sight, I jumped down into the river and curled one out under a small road bridge.

Just as I was cleaning up, I climbed back out only to bump into one of our tenant farmers.

“Ello Ravers, er….. what you doing under that bridge? Everything ok?”

“Umm, yep, er….. just looking at the underneath of the bridge, ummmm, yeah. Best be getting on.”

Awkward silence.
I was walking the dogs in the woods recently when I suddenly heard what sounded like a loud fart from a path off the main drag. I thought it might be a tree creaking until my two dogs showed an interest in going down the path. Round the corner was an old dear curling one out on the path.

With some difficulty I managed to stop my German Hunt Terrier snaffling the turd before it it had fully exited and hurriedly continued on our walk.

Around the next corner was presumably her husband who would have heard the drama unfold. In true British fashion we exchanged pleasantries about the weather like nothing had happened and I went on my way.

Fair one, it might have been touching cloth but she could have least have gone a bit further off route.
 
Yesterday I was at Christchurch Park feeding my squirrels, birds, ducks and geese.

I'd had a massive dump before I left as it's a good 12,000 steps there and back and being early evening, the park shitters would be locked up.

Nevertheless, the mushy peas I'd eaten with my fish earlier had started their own wind farm project in my gut and it wasn't long before I was letting rip. I stopped by a secluded part of the lake to break up some rolls and feed the geese. A combination of sweaty arse cheeks from the walking, along with no underwear ensured extremely loud, wet sounding farts that even a homosexual would have been proud of.

The only problem is, with Canada geese being nasty bastards, I'd been neglecting my arcs and shortly after letting a 4th round of thunder out of my clacker, a young family caught my eye. I turned to see a poor woman wearing a hijab (scarf wotsit) holding her nose as she strolled by, with her two kids doing that overexaggerated wafting thing while giggling to themselves.

I was very nearly almost midly embarrassed about the whole affair.
Perhaps you should move to Looe.
 

Hohenidoom

Old-Salt
Several years back we went to Brighton to see Loudon Wainwright III getting into the place was a time consuming nightmare, finding a parking spot even vaguely near the hotel likewise.

I'd not want to repeat the experience.

A tune about Brighton could be a mix of Westchester County, the acid song, and the bit about the homos done by Rufus.
 

anglo

LE
At least the East coast shellfish fleet is in reasonably good health as long as the Scottish scallop dredgers stay the f@ck away. They are only after the one catch and screw up the seabed whenever they pass, buggering up crab, lobster and other catches as well as ruining their environment.
Another reason for the East coast towns festering was our old pal, Dr. Beeching for axing the coastal railway between Scarborough and Whitby making travel from either direction extremely vexing especially when the coastal bus services cease to run, just in time for Whitby's biggest week of the year. The rail service will tell you which coach to take and from where. The coach company, when queried by telephone, can only groan at the 140th similar enquiry that morning.
Dr. Beeching stopped a lot of people getting to the coast from where I lived as well,
no bus service either, not needed as trains were used,
no trains, no buses, no visits, holiday resorts die.
 

Chef

LE
A tune about Brighton could be a mix of Westchester County, the acid song, and the bit about the homos done by Rufus.
We all came in our cummerbunds.

And this from 'The home stretch'

And a woman, your girlfriend.
Who is living in a city
Thousands of miles away
That is full of young male models,
Not all of whom are gay.
 

Boris_Johnson

ADC
Moderator
DirtyBAT
Perhaps you should move to Looe.

No chance.

An ex of mine lives there. Last time we were together it resulted in me having to escape through the lounge window with my belongings.

She went apeshit for no reason whatsoever after we got back from the pub, and like any sensible person at this stage, tried to leave through the front door. She slammed it shut and stood in front of it for a while. So I went and sat in the lounge.

Soon as she went to the toilet, I snuck into the bedroom, grabbed my stuff, then snuck back, posting it thro the window, shortly before making a dash for it.

I remember her bellowing at me from the front door as I got in my car.

I waved back at her with a big smile on my face before calmly driving off. ******* nutcase.

I blame inbreeding.
 
Yesterday I was at Christchurch Park feeding my squirrels, birds, ducks and geese.

I'd had a massive dump before I left as it's a good 12,000 steps there and back and being early evening, the park shitters would be locked up.

Nevertheless, the mushy peas I'd eaten with my fish earlier had started their own wind farm project in my gut and it wasn't long before I was letting rip. I stopped by a secluded part of the lake to break up some rolls and feed the geese. A combination of sweaty arse cheeks from the walking, along with no underwear ensured extremely loud, wet sounding farts that even a homosexual would have been proud of.

The only problem is, with Canada geese being nasty bastards, I'd been neglecting my arcs and shortly after letting a 4th round of thunder out of my clacker, a young family caught my eye. I turned to see a poor woman wearing a hijab (scarf wotsit) holding her nose as she strolled by, with her two kids doing that overexaggerated wafting thing while giggling to themselves.

I was very nearly almost midly embarrassed about the whole affair.


"I was very nearly almost mildly aroused about the whole affair".

More like.
 
Last time I was there I saw Chris Eubank zooming around the seafront on an electric scooter, while wearing a purple velvet suit.

If he wasn’t minted he’d be locked up.
My brother and his wife live in Brighton, they used to see him driving around in a big American truck cab type thing.
 

Ciggie

On ROPS
On ROPs
but who'll be the first to sell to a local when everybody else is making a mint selling to outsiders?
My uncle,who was on the Harrier design team at Hawker Siddley, bought a house in Harpenden before it was even slightly yuppie-ised. Lovely place in the 70s and even when I stayed in the early 80s and witnessed the sale of farmland nearby to build very expensive rabbit-hutches it still had a small modicum of niceness. That, inevitably, didn't last.
 

maguire

LE
Book Reviewer
Very popular in Italy, considered a connoisseur lager, I kid you not. Over there "Soopie" is the beer of choice for the discerning drinker while Peroni is considered working mans muck. It's also no longer produced by Tennent's.

funny you say that, I've worked in a few nice italian places over here and they shifted a lot of Peroni over the bar.(I prefer Nastro if they have it, but I won't turn my nose up at peroni though.)

in a similar vein, a lot of septics over here go bonkers for regular Carling (thinking about it though, compared to Bud it probably is a better tipple.) a friend who's moved to Sweden a while back was surprised to find Kopparberg is considered proper trampjuice over there and the swedes think it's hilarious we've been marketed it as this upmarket drink.
 

Latest Threads

Top