I'm indebted to Cathy Anderson who actually posted this as a comment on my original "Crap Towns" post. It's way too good to be lost in the realms of a comment on a post from long ago, so I'm publishing the whole thing here. I have to agree with Cathy - Grimsby is truly a crap town, and would get my vote (but it would be a fight with Morecombe, and Grimsby's own neighbour Cleethorpes).
Dear Publishers, I am writing to express my uttermost disgust and outrage on recently reading the publication ‘50 Crappest Towns in England’. I must protest greatly on behalf of all my fellow residents because not only did our very own loathsomely detestable town Grimsby fail to win the title, but it didn’t even make it into the book!
I think a little background information is necessary, for you to begin to understand just how wretched and miserable this small town truly is.
Firstly I shall begin with the name ‘Grimsby’ so called because if Grim the courageous founder of this glorious town? I think not. The name is given purely because some unfortunate souls happened to stumble upon the pathetically miserable river running through, and one of the more intelligent persons among the company expressed their opinion of the sheer gloomy, glum, grimness about the squalid waters which their did reek. And so the small village became known as Grimsby (AKA dirty river).
Somehow quite miraculously over the years the residents here grew and soon it was a town, and one of the worlds biggest fish ports, which may seem like something to boast about but rest assured I can most definitely contradict.
Cruising along the A180, you are totally oblivious to the fate in store for you; in just a few moments time the most putrid stench a man’s nasal senses could be subjected to enters your car window at approximately seventy miles per hour and locks itself in your clothes, hair, car seats and generally all about your person leaving people wondering of ‘Eue de Haddock’ is the latest perfume in fashion. A noisome mephitis to even the strongest of stomachs.
The town of course has other rancid malodours about it, from the repulsive waft of canine faeces to the sickening emanation that drifts from the fetid drains.
And as if things couldn’t get any worse, except after your nose has been put through the unbearable suffering of having to detect all this, your eyes now begin to notice just how appalling the scenery surrounding you is too.
Walking down Hainton Avenue, the unsightly residence in which I had the misfortune of my upbringing you notice that almost everything in sight is in a condition of deterioration; dilapidated, a street of bedraggled tenements; the houses having fallen into a state of disrepair, as through neglect.
A typical terraced house usually consists of the brickwork being broken-down and shabby, the windows being shattered and fragmentary and the welcome mat on the front porch soiled as if by having been dragged through mud, doing quite the opposite of its intended inviting purpose.
And on a Sunday morning, it is a very brave or very foolish man who dares venture out of his front door for a stroll down the street; for unlike London where it was once rumoured the streets were paved with gold, it is a widely known fact that the pavement in Grimsby is coated with vomit.
Only last Sunday I pulled across my curtains and for a moment thought it had snowed overnight; it wasn’t until I opened my window and the sickening stench of stale sick came soaring in did I realise it was not a blessing from mother nature but a result of high alcoholic consumption combined with all night clubbing and a late night stop off at Farebrother Street Pizza and Kebab (which consequently was shut down for improper hygiene leading to food poising, projectile vomiting and intense diarrhoea).
Of course if that wasn’t enough to put you off but the people here are atrociously idiotic. I went for a Chinese last Wednesday only to witness an overweight balding man in slippers shouting abusively at the chef there because he had ordered a desert and had received a main course, unfortunately the illiteracy of this simpleton led him to believe ‘tofu’ was a hard chewable sweet, highly popular with the elderly. Alas.
Though saying all this, there has been the occasional effort on behalf of the council to attempt ‘cleaning up’ the town. A project was launched last month to rid the streets of the very much detested ‘dog poop’ Why owners can’t just use a pooper scooper and take a plastic bag with them is beyond me. The scheme was that a sample from all the faeces found on the streets would be taken and matched to whatever dog produced it, it was all going perfectly to plan except when the polls actually came out, eighty-five percent of the dirty substance turned out to have been produced by humans. Sickening.
All in all this pitifully dismal community is one of total destruction and disintegration, whether it being physical, moral, social, or economic and I am almost certain on having receive this letter you will most definitely be re-publishing your book, with our very own ‘Crap Town’ as the rightly acclaimed champion.
Miss Catherine Anderson