Come to Glossop (Glossop)

Member Name: Bilbo Baggins

Product:	Glossop
Date:	26/10/01 (228 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Nice countryside

Disadvantages: Wierd people

Glossop in itself is a lovely little town situated near the hills. In itself I said, add people and you have something that really does resemble a scene out of The League of Gentlemen. This place is over flowing with weirdo’s. Even the children are weird. They are usually the ones untouched by madness, the sane little individuals of a town. Not here. They are born weird and spend most of their lives being weird. The only thing which they can do to prevent a life long torment of being weird is to leave. And that for a Glossopian is also weird.

These people are smashing. They don’t even know it. I’ll now take a different approach to this opinion. I’ll take you through a life in a day (twist on day in the life) of a trueborn Glossopian. Starting with their birth. This is a tricky thing to start off with. Usually relations procreate causing strange looking dividing eggs from the start. This cell division in the female starts to take on child form and when 9 months of incubation is up, out pops a baby. A normal looking baby with an odd brain. Not an oddly shaped brain but an oddly thinking brain. A brain that will spend its entire childhood thinking there is only one place on the flat Earth, Glossop. A brain that will long for the day it burns its first bonfire and torments it’s neighbour. There is one more thing to life for a Glossopian baby and that thing is…Whitfield and Gamesley. Where all the hard nuts live, the kids to aspire to. The only attainable thing in the world of Glossop.

Moving on now into infanthood and juniorhood. They go to their local schools and learn the ways of the playground. This involves calling fatty ‘fatty’, throwing stones at dinner ladies and learning to count to eleven. Anything past eleven is a mystery. Anyway there are only eleven roads in the minds of a Glossop kid. There are only eleven football teams to play against on a Wednesday after sch
ool and there are only eleven stars in the sky. If there are more, a Glossop kid doesn’t know and doesn’t care. After eleven comes twelfty or a word of a similar sound.

The alphabet. There are a number of letters in the alphabet but it takes time to work out in which order they come. It took me ages. But it came so I can’t be too many pence short of a shilling.

To write an opinion on Glossop you have mention the town, where it’s situated, what the buildings are like what there is to do. To put all that description in a sentence and as the well known phrase goes a sentence tells a thousand words – think Last of the Summer Wine. You’ve got it. That’s what it’s like.

Highlights are the river that flows fast enough to get through the town without becoming too disturbed, and the reservoirs. My theory is that the reservoirs are held back without dams. They lie on the fringes of Glossop and they don’t want to come any nearer. They look on over the skyline, which consists of a large grey chimney towards Manchester. The water knows that in Manchester it will be polluted but not mentally disturbed. So it lets a thin trickle through the town of Glossop which moves so fast it can look like a raging torrent. But it’s not that’s an illusion.

People outside Glossop slander us but luckily for them we don’t realise. We don’t understand the word ‘slander’. We don’t know our libel from our slander from our salamander. We haven’t got a clue.

They call us chicken chasers, hillbillies, country bumpkins, inbreeds, special people. The latter is right. We are special. We are very special.

I still live there.

Summary: