Beside the Smackside

What is it with British seaside resorts and ne'er do wells? Blackpool is stuffed to the brim with 'em, and even the genteel retirement town of Bournemouth has it's fair share. I was amazed on my last trip to Blackpool to see that almost every shop had to have door men on them to stop thieves. Even the train station had adopted an airport style gate entry system to stop bums using them to bed down for the night. I know because I asked. Just up the way in Morecambe things aren't as bad, but there are some seriously weird folk about. Put it this way, I wouldn't let my kids out of my sight, if you get my drift. But it is Bournemouth that surprised me the most. The place it self is very nice. It has retained much of it's Georgian and Victorian buildings, and the new buildings have been built to tie in with their surroundings. The park and beach front are of the highest order, but I couldn't get over the number of pan handlers on one of the main strips. It was like running a gauntlet of track suited youths badgering you for a quid. One made his play by letting me know that he wasn't on smack, he had checked into a hospice, and could he have a pound to get something to eat. "Listen mate" I said "If you are going to try and beg for money, you will be more successful if you don't stink of cheap booze. Sorry mate." And left him stood there. The next day it was the turn of a wild eyed strumpet. "Here mate" She said and made a bee line straight for me. "Give us a quid." This request was made with her face little more than three centimetres from mine. She looked desperate, and not a little deranged. "Sorry. no change" and I was offski. That was my last run down that particular street.

The only reason I can think off for our sea side becoming such a haven for the nations flotsam and jetsam is the number of Bed and Breakfasts that are more than happy to accept DHSS money to house them. Sadly this drives away the paying customer, and as a result, these places are great places for a day trip, but not so great for an extended sojourn. I can not think of at the moment a more depressing place than the coast in the north west. Morecambe is a crumbling ghost town, and if there is a more awful place in Europe than Blackpool, I have yet to clap eyes on it.