“Those dark, satanic mills, the flowing River Darwen down to the Ribble, the moorland, what a shitehole”
“I ventured forth and bought a pasty, got deliriously pissed in the Hurst, walked outside and got my face filled in. ”
“Fuck yeah!. ”
“Dog Muck was clearly fucking evident in my Sausage fucking Roll. ”
“Twas a nice visit but couldn't get in th'roxy with my sandals on!”
“Ich liebe es hier in Mayfield Flats! ”
Darwen Gets its name from the River Darwen, which is derived from the Olde Englische "Der Watdat", meaning "Hmm, what a peculiar smell". It is from the River Darwen that supermarket chain Morrison's source the milk for their economy cheese, of which there is an abundance in the abandoned fridges on the front lawns of Darwen's more well-to-do council estates.
Darwen, also known as "Blackburn's Bitch" was founded in 10 million BC by a caveman, he and his wives left no other evidence of their habitation than a Styrofoam cup marked with the initials 'NF'. More recently, in 1832 the Government decided to section off an area of Northern England for industrial activities such as prostitution, and chose Darwen, because only Mongs, Chavs and drugged cats called 'Wilma' lived there, and nobody cared.
Hundreds of cotton mills were built or flown in, some having to be stacked on top of one another, due to lack of space, which is one of many comparisons that can be drawn between Tokyo and Darwen. (Incidentally, Tokyo was named in 1999 as Darwens “Sister City”, after a long and fruitful relationship in the human traffic business and the smell of stale fish.)
Unfortunately in the last fifty years or so, the demand for cotton fell, as clothes started to be produced from crude oil byproducts and into Kappa tracksuits. This meant that everybody lost their jobs, and started pratting around in wheelchairs to try and claim "compo". Either that or they were disabled. Incidentally, Darwen is home to the inventor of the pedal-powered wheelchair.
Darwen residents do not believe in the physics of planet earth as we would know it. They simply believe that Darwen is a small flat continent floating through space of which it is possible to "fall off the edge". Hence, no Darwener has ever travelled beyond the limits of the town boundary for fear that they may "fall off Darwen". This theory has existed here since the very dawn of time and has been embellished by the educational establishments, thus instilling those very beliefs in the townsfolk from birth onwards. There have been unconfirmed reports of Darweners taking it upon themselves to foolishly attempt the journey to the unknown (a.k.a. bus into Blackburn) although none have made it so far.
The mayor of Darwen, Mr Dick Darwen, lives in the nearby hamlet of Hoddlesden Village with his common law wife, Erogenique. He has hairy, mal-formed, six-toed feet and has worked as the foot stunt double of Elijah Wood (Frodo Baggins) in the Lord of the Rings films. He also spent several years as the keyboard player and flautist of 1970s Dutch progressive rock band Focus.
Places to go and see
There are many famous landmarks in darwen, and the town attracts a healthy number of visitors from Tokyo, who take many many pictures. A list is given but is by no means comprehensive. There is a finalised comprehensive list in the Tourist office.
- Jubilee tower: Many people think that this was opened by Queen Victoria during her jubilee anniversary to honour Darwen’s contribution to Britains prosperity during the industrial revolution. This is wrong, and anyone who says differently is a fucking liar. People from Darwen believe the tower is actually a rocket ship, and it's waiting until the Darweners masterplan of World Domination comes to fruition. They believe that when they take over the world, they will enter the ship and take off to the next planet which they will fuck up in half the time. People not from Darwen of course do not believe for one moment it is a rocket, just a folly. They are wrong, it really IS a rocket-ship.
After many years in a psychiatric clinic named after george formby, people from Darwen are begining to accept this as utter bollocks. It was actually the product of large government spending, aimed at housing the north-west. Little did the realise was that the tower would need a greater capacity that 8 tramps to hold the entirity of the north west of england
On 5th November each year, large numbers of Darweners make the 12 mile trek up Tower Hill to board the "Stone Rocket Ship". Folklore has it that, one day the 'rocket ship' will blast off and anyone lucky enough to be on board will be propelled to new worlds and inevitably a better life. A life without the daily compulsion of Pasty's and Alcohol. Traditionally, the women, children and hermaphrodites are allowed to board the ship, while the menfolk attach a variety of Fireworks to the base of the ship. These include Rockets mainly but also Roman Candles, Catherine Wheels and Silver Fountains. After the tribal rituals of face-painting and random circumcision, the Fireworks are ignited at the stroke of midnight. The menfolk howl, dance around the rocket ship base and generally get aggressive. Many punch, kick and headbutt the rocket ship to encourage it skywards. Individuals are seen to lash out furiously at the ship with head, hands and feet shouting "Faaacck Aaafff" with each strike. After hours of frustration everyone returns back down into the valley and get's pissed in the White Lion. Another year will pass before they attempt it again.
The 2010 attempt at lift-off went disastrously wrong (see picture right).
- Pets At Home* Stuck for entertainment on a Sunday morning with the kids? Need to shake off that Cider induced hangover? Well then, follow the throngs of Darweners at 10am on their weekly pilgrimage to Darwen Zoo & Aquarium. A.K.A Pets At Home. Entrance is free and no purchase is necessary. You can let the kids run amok in the store, banging on the Fish Tanks and throwing objects in the Rabbits pen. Meanwhile you can nip outside for a fag and make small talk with some like-minded Kappa-adorned Chav.
- India Mill* India Mill was built at some point in the last five-hundred years - nobody knows when exactly - by a very rich mill owner by the name of Tom Jones, who had a very small penis. It literally sprung up over night once Jones had stumbled on the secret of impregnating local bricks with Viagra in an attempt to cure bestiality in the Welsh. Any stories suggesting it was built over a period of fourteen years are greatly exaggerated. Many local women dangle by their legs from the top of the mill chimney in order to lick the brickwork, believing it to make them fertile.
Recently, a dog or more likely a koala, was hit by a motorcar in the Sudellside area. The car was of course driven by a non local, or “outlander” as they are named, and the lady was burned at the stake in the town centre, before being catapulted to blackburn rovers football club in accordence with Darwen Common Law. (See subclause A – proper burning of foes)
A commemorative plaque is present dedicated to the ladies family, with an Official Apology from Darwen Council, who were powerless in the incident. If you are quick, you can still catch the departed animal in its later stages of decomposition, however there is an entrance fee of 15p (2001 prices) purely charged for upkeep of the grounds and to provide a skeleton staff.
- There are numerous Pastie shops in the town and tours of these can be arranged.
- For the more discerning a variety of pound shops are available.
- Methadone centres and needle exchanges are always fun for kids and Darwen has plenty on offer.
- Darwen is home to Britains most popular hotel, Darwen Tower, which is home to at least half of the Darwen population every day.
Don't worry about wheelchair accessibility. If you let go of a wheelchair from 100ft either side of the town centre, it will provide a thrilling ride down the valley, give an overview of the pastie and pound shops and make it to the other side, where every piece of available land or building is being turned into flats. Or pastie and pound shops.
Before any visit to Darwen is complete, one should seek out and glimpse a view of the town's most famous binge-drinker and failed womaniser, Jefferson Mizon.
Jeff can be seen in any number of Darwen's public houses from the hours of lunch time on Fridays, right through until after mid-night, on the following Monday morning. If an early tour can be organized, Jeff can be caught in the Sunnyhurst Public House at around 9am on a Sunday Morning. This is the best time to catch Jeff in his natural habitat -
- girls be aware that the Mizon is at his predatory best in this situation and would do well to not feed it fresh apple cider - be especially aware if it has eaten, "prescription based pharmaceuticals." In this instance, he would surely consume you with his lustful appetite - Girls, HOLD ON!!
He will be unclean and unshaven as he clutches his cider. He may well give off an odour that will give clues as to where he spent the night. These fumes will range from cheap perfume (a creature from Roxy) to the smell of "street" (where Jeff didn't pull and his parents locked him out)
Visitors who don’t just want to go down the “tourist route”, and wish to experience the rich textures and creamy wholesomeness of life enjoyed by Darwen folk, are advised to “get out” and be welcomed by the warm population.
Witness a traditional factory worker making condoms from local plastic by peeping your head around Dalecuts door. Although this factory claims to recycle plastic, their product looks suspiciously like spaghetti, which they then chop up into pellets. This is obviously the site of the food factory which feeds the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Employees eat only sausage barms as they are primarily meat-based beings serving McJesus.
Employees have a distinctive 'gay-laugh' which can be elicited easily by chanting the following phrase: "Mary loves Dick".
They can be effectively provoked by asking "what was the pre-paedo point?". They are sometimes guarded by drunken Aztecs, this is the company next door which is trying to rebuild the aincent civilisation by drinking and worshipping wood. They like wood.
Dalecuts Dwarfs are all under three feet tall and are photographed only on rare occasions as they are close relatives of the Oompa Loompas and Munchkins, feel free to ask them to show you their spaghetti.
You could take a traditional Darwen night out with the locals, and have a hearty meal at one of Darwen’s premier eateries. This guide personally recommends “The Akash” where if asked, the Michelin-starred Chef will put a bit of toilet paper on top of your curry to absorb grease. (as recommended by weightwatchers). This could be followed by a few cocktails at an exclusive bar, such as the Victoria Hotel. Visitors are reminded that “the stockmarket “ is where meat juices are traded, and that “the property ladder” exists for a man to gain access to a property from a first floor window.
For those who wish to sample the more cultural aspects of Darwen, "Fight Night" in one of the local pubs is definitely worth a go. "Fight Night" is a naturally occurring phenomenon and can be witnessed in any given pub at any day or night of the week. However, for the discerning weekend visitor, the New Inn on Market Street is highly recommended for those who seek Return On Investment (ROI). If one can stomach the flat alcohol served then prepare for a spectacle. Mine host will guarantee a fight which will commence upon your entry to the establishment. Usually though, a fight will already be under way as you walk in the door. There's a good chance that you'll get directly involved, so please make sure you pre-book a Taxi to A&E.
You could top the night off with a visit to one of the UK’s hottest nightspots, “The Roxy”. Here, you will meet the famous duo , Pietro Capitelli and Matt Duerden. In this internationally acclaimed arena of music, the Hacienda of Darwen, once you have patiently queued and avoided the bouts of fisticuffs that appeal to slack-jawed locals, as they attempt to attract the romantic attentions of their sisters and cousins, then slipped the doormen a gramme to gain entry, you will find yourself in the shining beacon that is Roxy - nightclub, par excellence! If you are a reasonable looking female, aged 10 - 14, you will find yourself catapulted to the head of the queue and straight to Reg; King of Kiddies, whereupon he will attend to your every whim. This 80+ year old, orange-skinned lothario, is famous in this luscious, late-night heaven and, as the old Darwen maxim goes, "If you've never been fingered by Reg, you must have reached puberty!"
- FactFile* The Roxy nightclub has a restricted DJ playlist because it is in arrears with its license fees . Due to these restrictions, the DJ is only licensed to play 2 songs which are (1) Band Of Gold - Freda Payne and (2) The Birdie Song - The Tweets. The DJ cleverly alternates between these 2 songs from 10pm till 3am each night. Predictably, the evening usually ends with The Birdie Song and a glassing. The Roxy has recently applied to the PRS Society for permission to use a 3rd song in it's repertoire which is thought to be 'Superman - Black Lace'.
Remember, nothing finishes the night like joining warm company around a glowing fire. This can be accomplished by arriving at Jay and AK around 12 midnight when the local branch of cultural development group "Scally McChav" like to bring the communities youth together by setting alight the inviting building. If you are willing to 'cop-off' then local delicacies Pastie Barm and warm White Lightening may be provided. Perhaps even entertainment in the form of Dalecuts staff working nightshift coming out, wearing their 'dickies' uniforms, to play with their special instruments in the corner.
One of the finer traditions of the elite class of Darweners (those that reside in high-class condos in the districts of Sunnyhurst, or Whitehall) is that of 'tranny-baiting'. Simply put, a group of men, riding horses and adorned in red jacketry, ride into local pubs and try and flush out a tranvestite. Then they are chased throughout town until they are caught and ritualistically Rodgered with a fishfork. There has been much debate in Parliament of late about the morality of this practice, yet Darweners steadfastly maintain it is the underpinning of their cultural identity. The most likely places to find transvestites include the Anchor, the George and the New INN.
Whatever you decide to do, please come and visit, and remember Darwens motto "We welcome outsiders.......To Hell."
Local Ramblings of Darwenian citizens section
Unconfirmed reports state that "The Flying Spaghetti Monster" was sighted over Darwen, other reports state it was last nights dinner being thrown out of a top floor kitchen by an irate all engulfing local resident Condoleeza Rice. Either way Darwen is in a permanent state of Pasta War, and tourists are encouraged to travel with several collinders and a bottle of pesto. People are also invited to view local legend Josh Riley who is, at times, found feasting on the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
There have been talks about redevolping Darwen town centre and it's surrounding areas. One such plan involved flattening everything, cementing over it all and simply starting again. Another involved lifting the whole town into the air with thousands of helicopters and dumping it in Chernobyl's exclusion zone to try and improve hygeine. One critic argued that these plans were too expensive, but was then correctly shown that the plans were aimed at Darwen.
Other plans have included tarmacking over Darwen and then painting double yellow lines all over it and then scrubbing them off again at great expense to the taxpayer. Several large companies have been in talks with Darwen Council regarding the purchase of the town. German supermarket giant Lidl was one of those bidders. If successful, they plan to evacuate all residents to a specially constructed bomb shelter beneath The New Inn. They they will carpet-bomb the whole town with their fleet of Lidl Heinkels (see picture).
The town will then be transformed into one giant Lidl store, with aisles the size of a cruise ship. The Cheese counter alone will be bigger than the deck of an aircraft carrier with a selection of more than 2,000 cheeses. The Bakery section will stretch from Grimshaw Street to Sandy Lane, with baguettes the size of a single decker bus.....fully loaded with Peppereperproni.
Darwen is most probably reknown for the origin of genital herpes; which was diagnosed in 1983 by Sir Sam Halliwell. At the time, Sir Halliwell just assumed he had a boil on his penis but soon realised something was wrong when he was getting intimate with several female bus drivers.
On 25th December 1988, every single vehicle in Darwen was issued a fixed penalty notice by a rogue traffic warden. The resulting revenue enabled the local council coffers to swell by the sum of 3.5 million pounds. Not only did this enable the local council to demolish the Hospice but it provided sufficient funds for the opening of another 12 branches of Booze-Buster in the town.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi visited Darwen at the beginning of the 20th century at the invitation of the Rotary Club (laffs don't get weirder than the truth...), surprisingly he didn't stop for long.
Darwen has the highest methadone user statistics in the north west. A statistic which earned it recognition in the Guinness Book of Records in 2008.
It is the only place in the world that defies evolution, with it's residents maintaining the same intelligence as the caveman that created the town 10 million years ago.
It has the most pastie shops of any English town.
Jeremy Kyle moved to Darwen in 2007. He no longer has to travel to his London studio in order to film his work.
Greggs Bakery in the town centre is the biggest selling Pastie outlet worldwide. Their bestseller is the blue WKD Pastie.
There is a McDonalds in Darwen. It is the only branch worldwide which serves draft White Lightning in litre glasses.
It has the biggest rat problem in the world.
Darwen's atmosphere consists of 73% Methane and 27% Cigarette smoke.
Darwen Tower, a small stone bus-stop shelter on a hill, is the home of Sir Sam Halliwell OBE MBE BBC OCD ASBO aka small penis
Miss Darwen 2007 John Sedgwick lives there.
It is unclear if these are linked unless you enter a Darwen home, then it is clear.
Darweners wear a special neck brace and visor which prevents them from staring directly at the sun.
Tourettes Syndrome was the brainchild of a Darwener.
At 1pm sharp every day, the local Wailing Woman stands in front of Boots on Duckworth Street and wails for 5 minutes. Many local residents treat this as a way to tell the time, very much like the 1pm cannon at Edinburgh Castle.
At 1.05pm each afternoon, a group of around 50 ex-employees from Belgrave Mill gather inside the White Lion pub and get pissed, including the wailing woman.
Many believe that darwen chavs are a whole new breed as they seem to be less intelligent then your average chav and are most often interbred.
Darwen is thought to be the largest single family in the entire cosmos which has led to the breed of humans known as chavs
Darwen was one of the few industrial towns in the UK not to be bombed by the Germans during the second world war. German historian Herr E Twat argues that the reason for this was that German pilots flying overhead looked down and assumed it had already been bombed.(nein! es war gebombet! it kosted 3 englischer pounds damage!)
The Millstone pub is the only pub in Britain where using the toilet is forbidden.
Situated near the idyllic town of Darwen, Blackburn boasts the nations highest rate of muslims(36.4 per 2 Bedroom House). Acclaimed for its award winning immigration levels Blackburn centre on a Saturday is like a U.N Summit(without the intelligence or Americans).
Amid mass debate variations of the true meaning of Blackburn have been derived, scholars claim the true meaning is of course 'Arabic' for 'Cunt-Ridden-Dump'. Although credible figures back this up the Blackburn residents or 'wankers'(as known throughout) refuse to see the black and white evidence. Of course the town's total IQ level is matched by the record attendance of 'Walkers Rentboys' lying at around 35.
Blackburn is totally devoid of juice. Whether it be Orange juice, Pineapple, Apple or Mango. You won't find any juice in this town. The dominant muslim population drove out the juice pioneers in the early 80's. The man from Del Monte was famously tarred and feathered here in Blackburn in 1988. The ensuing riots seen all forms of juice looted from shops and subsequently poured down drains. Juice squeezers were stockpiled and burnt publicly on the streets. Muslim's hate juice and throughout history have fought an ongoing battle with juice. The Muslims never cease to spout their anti-citric propaganda. However, Oranges can still be purchased on Blackburn Market...as long as you promise not to squeeze them.
Of course Blackburn isn't just a shit-hole filled with chav's and foreign imports. Many of the population are descendants of the late Jack'the twat'Walker, it is a well known fact that during the cunt's time in the town he was an instant success. The women of Blackburn craved a man who showered weekly and used electricity, women struggled to fend off his wealth and it is believed he impregnated Kerry Katona before giving birth to many of todays population. The locals pay pilgrimage to the towns rich tradition and every market day mass inbreeding takes place in the local Iceland. Inbreeding is Blackburn's finest sporting accolade, currently 3rd in the highly acclaimed Welsh-League it is believed that over 43 'Walk-tonas' are spurted out of the holy bargain base.
Darwen recently acquired a branch of the popular 'Subway' chain. Unfortunately they didn't have a sub for when your mum has just given birth to your second child and you want to go out for a celebratory 'posh' tea. They also didn't serve pasties, two fundamental flaws in their marketing scheme for Darwen.
Blackburn with Darwen Borough Council recently, in a bid to spruce up the lives of the "Darwen Inhabitants" held a Beauty Competition..... Unfortunatly no cunt won....
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