“Paddle faster, I hear Banjos!”
|Motto: Nickers off, ready when I come home|
|Civic anthem: Go forth and interbreed|
|Settlement type||Cess pit|
|Hours of Operation||Whenever anyone answers the door-bell|
|Dialing code||Telecoms? Try a carrier pigeon!|
Norwich (aka Naaarige) is a city in Norfolk, with one mediocre view of the now defunct Bernard Matthews turkey factory. During the 11th century, Norwich was allegedly the 2nd biggest city in England after London, but this fact was disputed after census tampering was revealed due to the poor literacy rate of the inhabitants (a statistic that has not improved greatly in modern times). Norwich is also widely regarded as a rather large shit stain on the face of East Anglia.
- 1 Loocal history
- 2 Vocabulary
- 3 Language tips and etiquette
- 4 Exports
- 5 Sport
- 6 Locally-famous people
- 6.1 New for 2011
- 7 See also
Norwich's centre of 'loocal' power is Anglia Square (pron: Angla Swear), a beautiful multi-storey mock-Georgian estate building in the 'shyte bit' in the North of the city, full of chavs, ASBO-holders, and prostitutes; overlooking the now-empty Matthews Turkey fields. Built in 1770 from cow dung, it features a recently added pleasant 1960's façade, complete with 'artwork'. During the 2nd Norfolk-Suffolk war (aka The Fuck War), the enemy extensively bombed the city, but sadly missed this bit out, despite the whole population lighting signal fires, shouting and waving flags to attract their attention. The area is also famous for being the home of HMSO or HOMS as it was known in the old days. HOMS made paper, books and ritin stuff, and that to export to the clever people who lived far away in the South and North and West.
Norwich is well know for having a culture based on a strong family, this has been easy for local government to maintain as there is only two of them. Any other people who live in the city are regarded as "furriners", and are subjected to harsh abuse and the occasional house torching. The people of Norwich are well known for all being inbred.
Norwich has the enviable accolade of having the greatest number of Police CCTV cameras per head of population in the UK, easily beating London, Madchester, and former terrorist hotspots in Northern Ireland. One crazy local inhabitant has even plotted every camera on a Google map which you can see here: Norwich Police CCTV cameras on Google Maps
Journeys to Norwich can be enjoyed along the East Anglian Superhighway which loooocals feel typifies the embracing spirit of forward thinking, and boundless enthusiasm for change, with which the city has become so synonymous. Starting in London, the M11 (pron. Emma Lairvun) tempts you with an 18 lane mega-motorway (putting to shame Autobhans from Ze Germans) which is adapted at the So-fuck/No-fuck border to a single un-metalled cart track with a stop/go scarecrow at the town of Evilden. All other roads to the city are along dank, misty, and fragrant (?) tow-paths. These paths are notoriously dangerous - ambushes laid by inbreds are a common occurrence - if you ever stop, they will rape your daughters (or bugger your sons) and steal your false teeth.
The same love of change applies with the road from the north of the country, that's correct there is only one road that connects the entire north of England to Norwich and the rest of East Anglia, the illustrious A47 – which eventually leads to the A17! It's not completley shit honest... what, with the inspiring scenery of complete and utterly soul destroying, grey, flat, fenland on one side, but also the borderline rapist luddites that live along the road, often seen sitting by the side of it, watching the cars drive past according to them the car "wor' boy mean of witchcraft".
Also, the fact that it is a one lane dirt track, and you can't go ten yards without getting stuck behind a tractor or a lorry. It is a frightening journey, as you really want to go faster because if you have to stop the looocals will take you, and your hubcaps, they like the shineys!!!!
The popular Rouen Daily Press newspaper is published fortnightly to warn the locals of full moons, new roads and immigrants, as well as providing the timetables for Cadmium air spraying.
Situated south-west of the city Norwich has its own Locust cars company, which fulfills the local transport needs with a fine blend of extruded window frames and glass-fibre bodied three wheelers.
Norwich has two shopping malls, both of which are inhabited by strange, demonic, creatures with large wings and afros. The Castle Mall, perhaps the most demon-possessed of the two, is built into a hill and named after Roy Castle, who is famed for breaking many records; his most famous being playing the trumpet whilst tap dancing to Bohemian Rhapsody. The second of the Norwich malls is Chapel-field-of-death, named after the world famous Circus family, it is said to be the last resting place of Adolf Hitler, although this is just a rumour, as all who venture into Chapel-field-of-death mall are turned into sub-atomic soup, and spat out into a parallel universe.
Norwich is known to be the in-breeding capital of the world, with family relatives constantly producing 'webbed feet children' who walk with their knuckles dragging along the floor.
In 1986, the 'Grand Moff' of Norwich, Stewart White (stuwrt whuite) decided to build a brand new Death Star on the site of the war memorial, hence why it is still pathetically out of use today. The death star was a complete failure by the Imperical Norwich City Council, due to a complete lack of interest and the locals. They kept turning up protesting at the top of the market chanting "Oie wan' somware to sit duwn an ea' moi chips"!
The Norwich dialect is proudly among the most impenetrable in the UK. This is entirely due to the loocal mistrust of outsiders or 'Faarners' as they're known locally - the dialect has been carefully honed over many centuries in order to make precisely no sense whatsoever to anyone not born within a day's tractor drive of the city centre.
Language tips and etiquette
When you are in Norfolk, it is customary and polite to chew with your mouth open, and spit bits of food on the person(s) oposite you. In Norwich, the noise level of conversation ranges from shout to yell. Culturally, this is due to generations of the people of Norwich and Norfolk working with farm machinery wurring in the background, as it still does today.
A few language tips. The usual greeting in norfolk follows:
"Ha y' alruigh boi?" — translation: How are you?
"Ha y' guwn duwn the markut?" — translation: Are you going to the Market?
"Oy new tha' it snew cus I jus driv there" — translation: I know that it has snowed because I have just driven from there.
"New, oi han' seen em, hev yew?" — translation: no, I haven't seen him/them have you?
"Hewld yew har' boi!" — translation: Wow, slow down a minute or give me a chance.
Main exports from Norwich are:
- Colman's mustard
- Dehlia Smith
- Kettle chips
- Alan Partridge
- Stephen Fry
- Climate hysteria
- Crab lice
Norwich is known for its mediocre football team, Norwich City [pron. Naarrch Settee]. It is mandatory for all spectators to dress in budgie outfits in support of the football teams emblem. They are also asked to bring cans of polish, as the empty trophy cupboards dust is a killer to remove. The rugby team is no better, made up as it is of frustrated farmers, who cannot get any anal sex. Thus, they run around grabbing the opposition's testicles to get their kicks, much to the delight of Norfolk folk who seem to specialise in finding the right hole.
However, Ipswich Town Football Club (nicknamed 'The Binners', for how they pride themselves in collecting rubbish left by the occasional tourist that visits once or twice every half a century) former chairman David Sheepshagger, recently stated that after being attacked and hounded out by vicious locals on tractors shouting "stab up that wasteman, he ain't nuffin blud", that he would much rather be director at their fierce rivals Norwich, despite having a football team consisting of 11 standing pegs, and that is nowadays only attended by 25,000 loyal clapping Penguins on matchdays. However, in doing this, he would have to contest this position with the aptly acclaimed Neil Doomcaster, for his works in making Norwich City the well known pub football team it is today, in a piece of agricultural trivia, in keeping with the current owners criteria for new staff members who only "know about what Norwich City is about", u no wht i meen? It's said that only on this basis did ex-manager Boy George lookalike Bryan Gunn get the job, despite relegating Norwich to it's lowest position in the football league in half a century, and harbouring ambitions of making the club a competitive side in the East Anglian Combination Division, where they can finally contest a 'proper' East Anglian derby with Lowestoft Town.
The ground originated as a Nest made up of loose twigs, cow manure, and bark chippings. Since then, it has grown into one of the funniest stadia in the European Union. Sitting alongside Morrison's and the Narridge to Yaarmuth dyke, Carra Ruud has undergone many changes. The most recent has been the renovation of the thatch on the roof of the Barclay stand - using Naarfuk reed (from Hum Base, aisle 17 (Made in China)). Opposite is a branch of the Narridge & Pete-a-brugh Building Society - which is quite handy for paying for a post-match blowjob with one of the local rent bouys.
Locals turn up to watch a pile of shit every other Saturday and then go home. There are no parking facilities around the ground as none of the locals are allowed to drive but those who do anyway can't fit their tractors in a space.
Carra Ruud is twinned with Portaloo Ro-ad, in Ipswich, previously home to many Eastern European ladies. At weekends, whole flocks of football fans are not found there, but in the local Liquid Nightclub stabbing each other with pitch forks.
Carra Ruud has many 'family' sections in the ground where families can come and .... (hint Inbreeding).
Though the fine city of Norwich is not blessed with many of those forms of entertainment popular in most 21st century conurbations, residents are constantly amused by the local eccentrics, known in the area as fengibbons or, more commonly, super-heroes. These are some of the best-loved:
New for 2011
Lord of the Rings man
Special skill: watching the Lord of the Rings without owning a TV! How you might ask? Well, he stands outside TV shops in the city watching it play using his sonic hearing to listen through the Shop window glass! Also spotted diving into Waterstones book store, presumably to catch up on the Lord of the Rings books!
Special skill: Hypno Puppets that stun and mesmerise passers-by with their inane jumping up and down to Des O'Connor CD's. One puppet seems to be given the unpleasant task of occasional crotch and arse scratching, as well as possible hat, glasses and wig adjustment. Stinking of six-month old stale piss, he owns a Mercedes and is actually a multi-millionaire, having left his successful career as a merchant banker to "give something back to the people". More details on him can be found here.
Special skill: Plays a flute at ranges far beyond those of the human ear. Unfortunately, the ones that are within the range of the human ear are vastly out of tune!
Hollie 'The Bag Lady' Brown
The Bag Lady is well renound by many dwelling in the city of Norwich. She sleeps on the main Cathederal steps at the heart of the city, and can also be found in other areas in a close radius of the location, like in the tombland toilets, indeed, any public toilets.
Often seen around the area of Magdalen Street and Anglia 'Chav Central' Square, he can be easily spotted by his Tesco trolley full of rubbish and stuff that even charity shops have thrown out. Legs are always bandaged up, with puss oozing out through them onto the pavement, leaving a snail like trail wherever he goes. Possible relation to Bag Lady (see above).
Special skill: Traffic Direction. Although sadly no longer in evidence, MARIGOLD was one of Norwich's true Super Heroes, equipped with supermarket shopping trolley, fluorescent jacket or vest and bright yellow marigold gloves, and many layers of clothing. You would find him, in times of National Emergency (aka the daily rush hour), defending the City by standing on a traffic island directing the traffic, mainly around to the East of the City – often by the Chapelfield roundabout at the top of Grapes Hill. Unfortunately, quite a few people actually took notice of what he was telling them to do resulting in the building of Norwich Union Insurance Company (latterly known as Aviva after £80,000,000 name-change - laid-off employees take note!).
"The EDP can reveal that 57 year-old Marigold is alive and well, but retired from unofficial traffic duty on the city's inner ring road. Many believed Marigold had died because they had not seen him on point duty for several years."
The Incredible Market Twins: Joe Toomey & Toe Joomey
Special skill: Flower Selling and Wooing the Ladies. These two are in fact not inbred as many would believe but were conceived during a radioactive storm which altered them to look 'Special'. This dynamic duo work on the market flower stall by day, dressed in their usual all over blue and white costumes, however by night, these Twins frequent the local nightspots on a regular basis. Dressed in their matching 'going out' outfits – which usually includes combat pants, a very tacky shirt and sunglasses, they have a reputation of being lady killers using their midget frames, massive bald heads, and hilarious dance moves to woo the ladies. It is understood that although way into their late 30's, these two heroes of Norwich still live at home with their elderly Mother and Sister (these are not in fact one in the same person as was previously believed).
Another strange fact about the twins is that one used to support local team Norwich City whilst the other opted to follow fierce rivals Ipswich Town. They have since joined forces to follow Ipswich.
This remarkable chap loves his sport so much he's a wannabee commentator, also known to be a bit of a Karaoke king, using not a microphone but an old 1970's transistor radio glued to one ear, you've gotta love this guy, who provides entertainment when waiting for a bus outside the central big 'D' department store. His newest hangout is the fire escape doorways leading to premier nightspot Lava down at Riverside. Lucky punters in the queue are often treated to a dance show and are invited to kick him in afterwards. Also known as 'Simple Simon'.
The Carpet Men
This lovely bunch of pan-pipe-playing men from Peru wearing carpets seems to have morphed across the many cities of Great Britain, however Norwich is where they first began life as superheroes. Their fantastic musical ability wows the crowds of shoppers. However, no matter how much you enjoy their music, once you have purchased their CD and put it on at home it sounds nothing like the real thing, and you are forced to take it to a charity shop.
Car Shouting Man aka Jesus
A delightful fellow who can be spotted along St. Benedict's Street, but sometimes migrates to St.Stephen's roundabout (near Iceland), where he can be seen shouting at the cars circling. Also spotted sleeping in yellow skips. He may also be recognised by his tasteful combination of socks and flip-flops worn throughout the year!
The Unconvincing Homeless Dude
Special skill: "Can you spare any change Sir/Miss?", and regardless of nature of reply: "Thank you very much, have a nice day!" Very likely to be seen outside or near The Rock Collection, as this is where he spends all the money he has 'earnt' during the day, normally on Heavy Metal band posters, at other times on the train fare to his home town of Newmarket. The Unconvincing Homeless Dude began his local work in the late Summer of 2008 when he was 15. He achieves his look by being extremely scruffy. In the past, this has involved long untidy hair, smudged make-up, a melancholic demeanour, various Heavy Metal band t-shirts, and ill-fitting combat trousers.
Today, he can be seen with rather shorter yet just as untidy hair, no make-up, the same melancholic demeanour, a wider, more underground selection of tops, with the occasional repeats of those past-seen and jeans with rips in the knees to add extra hobo authenticity. By looking scruffy in the ways listed above, The Unconvincing Homeless Dude fools the rich and/or elderly and/or retarded into thinking he is in fact homeless, thereby 'earning' his precious 20p's collected in a chip cone that he found in a bin.
Other ACTUAL homeless people (tramps, bums, hobos, etc.) can tell that The Unconvincing Homeless Dude is not a true homeless, and often tell him to go home to his mummy when he is in the Salvation Army's midnight soup queue. Other people who know his true life are some of the local mutants he proudly calls friends, to whom he is known as 'Twat Face'.
|Barmy British Stuff|