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Great Yarmouth, Jewel of the East!


Guest Stephen Turner

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Guest Stephen Turner

A recommendation not only to those fortunate enough to live in this sceptered Isle, this demi-paradise, but also to those poor people, who through their forefathers silly choise do not dwell in England.

Ah, how best to describe the wonders that lie in wait for you in the Earthly Eden that is Great Yarmouth. The sun kissed golden sands perhaps? mile upon mile of par boiled, pot bellied Northern sophistocates, swilling beer, eating sand encrusted "Big Mac's" whilst rending the air with their flatulance, I feel I cannot pass without comment on the many different shades, and texture of dog faeces also to be found liberally deposited upon the beach, like stars in a Winter sky.

The ancient back ally's of the old Town are another much over-looked treasure, witness these half timbered buildings, dating back to the 1500s, whilst being relieved of your money, credit cards and travellors cheques by charming local heroin addicts.

Or, for those who's tastes are more contemporary, there is Sea World,a hugh goldfish bowl, built on the sight of an old horse knackerers, witness all manner of sea creatures, marvel at the cramped conditions, and play a game of "spot the floater" for it is rumoured that from time to time the staff use the tanks to commit suicide in.

Yes, there is something for everybody at GREAT Yarmouth.

THIS SPOT PAIDED FOR BY THE EAST ANGLIAN TOURIST BOARD.

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A recommendation not only to those fortunate enough to live in this sceptered Isle, this demi-paradise, but also to those poor people, who through their forefathers silly choise do not dwell in England.

Ah, how best to describe the wonders that lie in wait for you in the Earthly Eden that is Great Yarmouth. The sun kissed golden sands perhaps? mile upon mile of par boiled, pot bellied Northern sophistocates, swilling beer, eating sand encrusted "Big Mac's" whilst rending the air with their flatulance, I feel I cannot pass without comment on the many different shades, and texture of dog faeces also to be found liberally deposited upon the beach, like stars in a Winter sky.

The ancient back ally's of the old Town are another much over-looked treasure, witness these half timbered buildings, dating back to the 1500s, whilst being relieved of your money, credit cards and travellors cheques by charming local heroin addicts.

Or, for those who's tastes are more contemporary, there is Sea World,a hugh goldfish bowl, built on the sight of an old horse knackerers, witness all manner of sea creatures, marvel at the cramped conditions, and play a game of "spot the floater" for it is rumoured that from time to time the staff use the tanks to commit suicide in.

Yes, there is something for everybody at GREAT Yarmouth.

THIS SPOT PAIDED FOR BY THE EAST ANGLIAN TOURIST BOARD.

Stephen

You do Great Yarmouth an injustice with your thin veneer of vitriol and snide abuse. I have it on good authority that the late, great Rev Spooner himself spoke very highly of Great Yarmouth (or Yate Grarmouth as he affectionately called it.)

His pavourite fart of the holiday was turling his coes in the sorious glands. He loved dialing away the ways in the Wig and Pistle, pinking drints of Whitbread Tankard (even Rev Spooner didn't dare turn that one around!) He'd often enjoy a cuss and a kiddle with the chevilly-hested weary benches - as many as he could get his homing little rands on. If there was a girl he feely rancied, he'd fop a keel, indulge in feenage tumblings, before sneftly napping her dickers off. Then he'd drag the Mucky Lynx off to the Eye-knees Cheatery for some neep, dried froodles and dreaded shuck. After a dong lay like this, he'd drift off to sleep, whoring snivelly.

The East Anglian Tourist Board don't mention that little lot in their leaflets, do they?

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I see that there are quite a lot of pub activites available for the oldsters, but I believe I'll save those questions for Dave "I love the nightlife, I got to boogie" Greer, who has probably visited EVERY one of them.

Kathy Beckett

I resemble being called an oldster! Anyway, what's wrong with letting what's left of one's rapidly thinning hair down on occasion? As for boogie however, I fear at my age the bones aren't quite up to it (in fact, the old bone isn't quite up to that either). No, I restrict my hobbies to bus queueing, finger-painting, pipe-smoking, lecturing at young men, lechering at young women, grinding my dentures, drinking dangerously high levels of tea, and smelling of cat.

No doubt many of these simples pleasures will be banned if the Nazis at East Anglia Tourist Board get their way...

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Guest Stephen Turner

Ah, ha, a couple of Yarmophiles. As Oscar might have said, "There is only one thing worse than not being in Yarmouth, and that is being in Yarmouth" or perhaps Lowestoft, try Googling that Kathy, I bet the liars even make that hell-hole sound like Paradise with knobs on. Lowestoft, the only town that hasnt had a real fishing fleet for thirty years, yet still manages to stink to high heaven of rancid Cod. Maybe its the Locals, whose idea of a good night out is twenty pints of craddocks "Old Wallop" a deep fried Curry pie, and pissing through letterbox's on the way home.

Joyland should more correcty be described thusly. An ageing rust encrusted hulk, posing as a theme park, in which (a) no ride is under thirty years old, and (B) everthing is liberally covered in seagull droppings, and infant vomit. a soul sucking vehicle, fit only for those who think candy floss is a foodstuff and Jerry Springer is a Marrage guidance expert.

Oh and Kathy, it wasn't so much I was kicked out of GY, as running as fast as I could once the earliest opportunity presented itself. As one local wag put it. "all bad people should holiday in Yarmouth once, its a good preperation for a long stay in Hell."

Edited by Stephen Turner
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Guest David Guyatt

I have spent the past ten days or so driving everywhere in Suffolk and Norfolk (and Lincolnshire too - 'cuz I'm a mug!) and considered myself blessed to have avoided being contaminated with Great Yarmouth. What puts me off (mostly) is the large banner sign on the A12 appraoches to the town which states:

"Forsake Hope All Ye Who Go Here".

Although this might possibly have been directed at the nearby Butlins Holiday Camp and not the town itself. Although the multiple shotgun pellet holes in the road signage and the burned effigies of tourists hanging from elevated blackened wicker cages is not exactly enticing. Anymore than the lusty muscle-bound wenches shaving their beards and popping inflamed puss encrusted facial contusions with their bare prize fighter hands.

Ditto the so called "Fish n Chips" parlours that proliferate thereabouts (cunningly advertised as Delhi belly in a scampi basket).

No matter. The fact that there IS a nearby Butlins is sufficient in and of itself to deter any decent minded holigan, like wot I am, from entering that serpents labyrinth.

On the other hand, I found myself supping an old assortment of beverages in and around that location and Dave is absolutely right, if taken in sufficiently high doses, one is struck with an insufferable dose Suffolf blue-tongue. --- *+^%$£".

David

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Forget Great Yarmouth - Redcar is the place to go. Yes, it really is the only place on earth that looks more like Dunkirk circa 1940 than Dunkirk itself, as the director of Atonement will testify.

20060824001128_atonement.jpg

Fantastic views of the largest smelting furnace in Europe.

redcar.jpg

Hartlepool Nuclear Power Station clearly visible across the River Tees.

SouthGare5_t.jpg

We boast the world's oldest lifeboat.

newzetlandpic.jpg

And some of the most welcoming, warm, golden sandy beaches on North Yorkshire's heritage coast.

215136246_4daadab385_m.jpg

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Let's not forget the guaranteed sunshine throughout the year.

Redcarseafront2.jpg

Behold the olde-worlde charm of Titty-bottle park. (Sadly it's long since been replaced by an underground redbrick hang-out for local druggies, cunningly passing itself off as the public lav.)

RedcarEsplanade.jpg

The council are doing their best to rectify matters of course. See their exciting new plans for a Wind Farm, guaranteed to bring hordes of missing tourists back to the Benidorm of the North! Make sure you get your towel down early!

majubaturbines.jpg

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Guest Stephen Turner
Let's not forget the guaranteed sunshine throughout the year.

Redcarseafront2.jpg

Behold the olde-worlde charm of Titty-bottle park. (Sadly it's long since been replaced by an underground redbrick hang-out for local druggies, cunningly passing itself off as the public lav.)

RedcarEsplanade.jpg

The council are doing their best to rectify matters of course. See their exciting new plans for a Wind Farm, guaranteed to bring hordes of missing tourists back to the Benidorm of the North! Make sure you get your towel down early!

majubaturbines.jpg

Dave Greer obviously works for the North Yorkshire tourist board.

But still, it looks idylic. My only experience of the Yorkshire coast is Whitby, and even Count Dracula got out of there toot-sweet. Oh, and Robin Hoods bay, which was actually quite nice.

Edited by Stephen Turner
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Guest Stephen Turner

And now a poem, to the Glorious English coastal towns.

Of Nelsons blood, and granite walled.

our glorious coast is built.

In hamlets dark, and promenade.

you play on push and tilt.

The seagulls cry, the fishing fleet.

A pint in the hare and hog.

a childs delight, a parents rest.

Reeking onions in a luke warm dog.

Journeys end, and peeling paint.

the glory days long ended

"Oh Mother I think the rain has stopped"

What was broken cannot be mended.

Edited by Stephen Turner
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  • 3 weeks later...
Guest Stephen Turner

Poor old Great Yarmouth is facing its second disasterous flooding in eighteen months, over 17000 homes have been evacuated, and community center's are full to overflowing, nortwesterly gale-force winds, and high tides are threatening to breach sea defences, and many local People face losing their homes and posestions. Please pray for my poor old downtroden home Town.

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  • 2 weeks later...
Poor old Great Yarmouth is facing its second disasterous flooding in eighteen months, over 17000 homes have been evacuated, and community center's are full to overflowing, nortwesterly gale-force winds, and high tides are threatening to breach sea defences, and many local People face losing their homes and posestions. Please pray for my poor old downtroden home Town.

Well? Did it receive the cleansing flood of Biblical proportions it no doubt deserves?

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Guest Stephen Turner
Poor old Great Yarmouth is facing its second disasterous flooding in eighteen months, over 17000 homes have been evacuated, and community center's are full to overflowing, nortwesterly gale-force winds, and high tides are threatening to breach sea defences, and many local People face losing their homes and posestions. Please pray for my poor old downtroden home Town.

Well? Did it receive the cleansing flood of Biblical proportions it no doubt deserves?

Nope, false alarm. But Neptune waits patiently to once again clutch this patch of east coast to his pendulous man boobs.

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  • 2 weeks later...
Guest David Guyatt

I think it only fair that other seaside towns be given equal opportunities and rights in this battle of the beaches.

The Blackpool of the south is, without doubt, Southend on Sea, situated at the mouth of the Thames estuary. It boasts the longest pier in the world, stretching one and a quarter miles out to sea (or as the locals say “out to mud”), which is the distance the tide retreats twice daily from the shore, leaving an expanse of gleaming, glutinous, globulous, gallinaceous infested, seaweed-stinking brine porridge in which to flounder (much loved by the weird Victorians as a skin remedy it is said).

The below picture shows the Pier with the tide in retreat (or advance?) with the picturesque oil and gas sheds on the distant shore Isle of Sheppey):

300483903_ac959dd2a5.jpg

There is much more to reccomend this sans golden sands paradiso, including a low tide peramulation around the exit tunnel of the towns antiquated sewer system (see here at full tide):

425482955_892eafec2a.jpg

The Victorian era Pier has twice suffered fire damage and those of suspicious minds ask if insurance fraud was involved. But despite this possible blemish on an otherwise noble town, a tour of the splendid seafront is incomplete without dropping by the stylish "Golden Mile" - doubtlessly named in honour of British bling at its best:

1448397159_30af679711.jpg

On those bad weather days that largely occupy the summer months the town is rightly famous for other holidaying activities. Eating fish n chips, drinking beer... suicide at the prospect of another days spent in this raptured heaven:

1655726504_0b22572c84.jpg

The fact that the Romans by-passed Southend on Sea didn't stop others from populating the area and gave rise to the original name of the town Luctum-on-Sea. In-breeding remains a common practise.

Luctum on Sea:

1982315042_9237da7482.jpg

Luctum (aka Southend) on Sea as seen by God:

http://www.sarfend.co.uk/images/southendaerial1.jpg

All in all, Southend on Sea must stand out as one of the most desirable destinations in eastern England for those seeking sheer and unadulterated holiday pleasure.

It clearly beats the hell out of Gt. Yarmouth and Redcar.

Edited by David Guyatt
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Guest Stephen Turner
I think it only fair that other seaside towns be given equal opportunities and rights in this battle of the beaches.

The Blackpool of the south is, without doubt, Southend on Sea, situated at the mouth of the Thames estuary. It boasts the longest pier in the world, stretching one and a quarter miles out to sea (or as the locals say “out to mud”), which is the distance the tide retreats twice daily from the shore, leaving an expanse of gleaming, glutinous, globulous, gallinaceous infested, seaweed-stinking brine porridge in which to flounder (much loved by the weird Victorians as a skin remedy it is said).

The below picture shows the Pier with the tide in retreat (or advance?) with the picturesque oil and gas sheds on the distant shore Isle of Sheppey):

300483903_ac959dd2a5.jpg

There is much more to reccomend this sans golden sands paradiso, including a low tide peramulation around the exit tunnel of the towns antiquated sewer system (see here at full tide):

425482955_892eafec2a.jpg

The Victorian era Pier has twice suffered fire damage and those of suspicious minds ask if insurance fraud was involved. But despite this possible blemish on an otherwise noble town, a tour of the splendid seafront is incomplete without dropping by the stylish "Golden Mile" - doubtlessly named in honour of British bling at its best:

1448397159_30af679711.jpg

On those bad weather days that largely occupy the summer months the town is rightly famous for other holidaying activities. Eating fish n chips, drinking beer... suicide at the prospect of another days spent in this raptured heaven:

1655726504_0b22572c84.jpg

The fact that the Romans by-passed Southend on Sea didn't stop others from populating the area and gave rise to the original name of the town Luctum-on-Sea. In-breeding remains a common practise.

Luctum on Sea:

1982315042_9237da7482.jpg

Luctum (aka Southend) on Sea as seen by God:

http://www.sarfend.co.uk/images/southendaerial1.jpg

All in all, Southend on Sea must stand out as one of the most desirable destinations in eastern England for those seeking sheer and unadulterated holiday pleasure.

It clearly beats the hell out of Gt. Yarmouth and Redcar.

Thats all quite excellent. How about scroby sands in Yarmouth. God it makes me homesick

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