The Red Bladder’s Christmas message comes from Poundbury
IMAGINE, IF YOU WILL, Basildon without the architectural splendour, Slough without the charm or Grimsby without its innate sense of jollity.
That would truly be a town of utter desolation, a total pit of a place that would be completely unsuited to human habitation.
That would be Poundbury.
Could there ever be a place so desolate, so soulless and so completely lacking in a single attractive feature? Finding one would be a task on a Herculean scale and one which would make big, strong men blanch at the prospect of undertaking.
To enter Poundbury is to enter the Pit of Despair.
Drive around it and you will not see a single soul, no pedestrians walk the streets, no children play around its chilling exterior and no person dares to knock on a neighbour’s front door in the hope of a cup of sugar. Are they all ashamed to be seen in a such a place? Probably. Are they all mortified at the rush of blood to the head that impelled them to move there in the first place? Undoubtedly. Can the all be seeking the sanctity of their own homes as a release from their dreadful surroundings? Of course they are.
If towns were the lyrics of popular songs Poundbury would be “He made a vow while in State’s Prison, ‘bout it would be my life or his’n” or even “Yummy, yummy, yummy I’ve got love in my tummy” – yes it truly is that bad.
Ghastly, hideous, revolting and appalling, a whole thesaurus could not summon up enough adjectives to describe this total waste of perfectly good bricks and mortar, this nightmare of development that should have been smothered at birth, this appendage to a county town which must now bear its shame for evermore.
In a nutshell I do not like Poundbury.
On that cheery note I should like to wish you all a Happy Christmas and everything that you wish for yourselves in the New Year. As ever, mine’s a pint, thank you very much.
2 Responses to “The Red Bladder’s Christmas message comes from Poundbury”
Every time I drive past P****bury I just can’t believe my eyes. I always try, if possible, to avoid driving through the place, it fills me with such despair.
Why was it built stuck out on limb like that, as if on a pedestal to deliberately look so incongrous? Like an isthmus, as one approaches from the West, it projects as if on a ledge, as unnatural and exposed to the wild prevailing winds as unlikely as could be… will it ever get a shelter belt, indeed could a shelter belt be planted in the minimal space between the radiused edges and the drop into the chasm below.
But… w-h-a-t views ‘some’ have over the surrounding countryside, perhaps the raison d’etre – but for just a few!
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