Once when I was about 19 me and a few mates piled into this van with a tent and decided to go camping for a night in what we thought was Sherwood Forest. We pitched the tent on Sat afternoon and saw on the map the nearest town was Worksop ! So off we all go for a pub crawl round Worksop, check out the chicks etc...
What a bunch of weird fuckers inhabited that place in the 70s, as the night went on and the locals got more and more pissed it got much much worse, death stares, ignored at the bar till all the local freaks got served. Just a very strange and worrisome atmosphere in every pub we stumbled in.
I swear we were actually scared going back to the tent, it was like they'd all been smoking crack, I attempted to confer with a couple of locals who (I think) told me that Common hobbies in Worksop include getting shitfaced and hitting someone with a bit of wood, committing suicide, and intergenerational welfare dependency. As it got close to midnight I fully expected the night might play out like one of those movies where 4 lads go camping and disappear, forever. I feared we'd be woken at 3 am with a sort of KKK gathering around our tent..
If someone ate a shit and then shat it out again, 70s Worksop would be that second shit. In mathematical terms, shit times shit equals Worksop. It’s the shit in a shit pie if the pastry was also shit.
