mouth of the humber

HULL, HELL & HAPPINESS...

ull is a town of apathy and idiots, brimming with all kinds of degenerate scumbags that should be beaten to a bloody pulp and sterilised at birth. Many of the so-called Intelligent citizens have next to no communication skills. They are backstabbing, egomaniacs who think just because they mumbled their way through a Look North interview or organised a shitty music festival to line their own pockets, they have some kind of minor celebrity status and deserve our undying loyalty and respect. The Hull Daily Mail itself is an absolute criminal piece of pseudoconservative propaganda; I ran out of toilet roll last week but I decided to let the shit crust around my backside rather than lower myself to use a few ripped up pages of that woeful rag. Then we have the baby chav boys, 10 year old kids smoking rolls and robbing the corner shops for Curly Wurlys; their drunken degenerate mothers eating Battenberg and watching 24 hour soap operas; their fathers, smashing the face of a Port Vale fan and then returning home to knock his wife about because shes eaten all the Battenberg and forgotten to dust his darts trophy. Fields and fields of festering council estates inhabited by children, who barely manage to escape their under-funded schools with any semblance of an education because their teachers are all mercenary fuckwits, who are only in a teaching job because the government offered to pay off their student loans if they took a bullshit course in education and its much more cushy than working in some industrial office block.

Most of the higher wage earners only got their jobs because they once slept with the Chief Executives Labrador whist he filmed the action. Knocking-on-forty secretaries are indulging in steamy toilet love with the junior administrator because hell go down on her occasionally and tell her shes pretty, unlike her prison warden husband who hasnt tied her to the bed in two years, due to his slipped disc and his notso-secret pre-teen sex desires. The cool kids, who invade the caf bars from the suburbs of Kirk Ella and Willerby, looking like victims of an explosion at a Kays Catalogue warehouse, turn their noses up in disgust as local commoners with dreadlocks pass by the windows. Why dont they just stay in those godforsaken pubs on the outskirts thatre full of middleaged divorcee women trying to seduce Armani-clad accountants, who wear sunglasses indoors, into their well-ridden beds. The spoilt rotten rich kids, whove never been east of the river, driving around in Daddys MG and shagging their best friends partners in their exclusive gym changing rooms and shovelling pounds of high quality cocaine up their nose on a weekend, so they can achieve a level of arrogance that befits their social status. The streets are lined with Takeaways and chip shops, as far as the eye can see - a grubby off-licence on every corner and a disreputable pawn shop a few doors down. A giant TV stands menacingly in the middle of the town square, like some horrific vision of the future, spewing out Songs of Praise and giving the tramps something to occupy their minds, in-between bouts of manic despair and white cider drinking. The Council are a bunch of duplicitous winos, who are regularly voted the most clueless and incompetent human beings in the land and when they are not sodomising fellow party members in the Lord Mayors chambers, they are sat behind their word processors ripping off other peoples policies and claiming them as their own. Anyone who wants to make a difference in this city quickly drowns in the bile, bullshit and general stupidity of the majority of the citizens and they either leave for London, or a place that inspires them to better things, or they stay and create their own little private worlds in order to avoid the fuckwits and imbeciles as much as is humanly possible. Hull is a city of lost causes, missed opportunities, denial, degeneracy, seed, smoke and squalor. A city that has no interest in the rest of the worlds affairs, populated by a few clans of clowns who count the heartbreaking minutes between pints of cheap bitter and fat Patti butties. I love it. Lee Cassanell Illustration: Paul Newboult

REMEMBER !! For more info on whats on, whats happening and where to go in Hull.

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Lee cassannell

tenfootcity magazine
Issue3 out end of July.