An anagram of Bacup is Bollocks. Well, if you came from Bacup, you’d fall for that.
The vast majority of the inhabitants can barely spell dole on their benefit form.
The only reason that Kappa haven’t built a factory here to supply the townies is that it would provide jobs… and they wouldn’t want that.
Oh no,…the dole is just fine thank you. And if all else fails, become a drug dealer. And if that doesn’t work, you can always stand about and do nothing. Which is the favourite past time of “bored” youngsters here.
Rain is an integral part of every day modern Bacup living. You would have thought the locals would have realised that when they vandalise something in (stolen) marker pen, that they don’t have to go back the next day and write some more – the rain doesn’t wash stuff off on the INSIDE of the bus stop.
The most interesting feature in this cesspool of the Pennines is a sign saying “you are now leaving Bacup”. Or at least it would be if it hadn’t been stolen.
Against all of the above, Bacup does have a very efficient dumping ground. The River Irwell. Lovely shade of orange. “Its been tangoed”.
I think the person who wrote the review of Bacup is obviously someone who used to live there and has now moved on . This has led him/her to flights of fancy about the state of the town. He/she paints a picture of doom and gloom and fails to note several places of note in Bacup.
1. The local Tesco where, you may take money from the cash machines only to have it stolen from you by the gangs of unwashed, “boarder dudes” who loiter around this mecca of enetrtainment.
2. The ‘loverly’ local pubs where you may sit on broken stools at cracked tables, no doubt broken in Saturday nights only entertainment, “I’m gonna have a fight with me mate”
3. And, the ‘piece de la resistance’ of Bacup, the maggot farm a few miles out of town towards Todmorden whose sultry aroma can be smelt throughout Bacup on days when the wind blows from the East.