What’s it about?

Inoffensive, picturesque Durham. Without the fun factor of Newcastle or the ruggedness of Darlington, this medieval site instead thrives on inane wankiness, claiming to have its own shade of purple.

The city is famously the burial place for The Venerable Bede and Saint Cuthbert, providing a sanctuary for pilgrims the world over. But if boring ecclesiastical history isn’t your thing, Klute – voted the worst nightclub in Europe – is a sacrilegious site for those who prefer off-brand vodka, restrooms flooded with excrement and STIs.

It’s fucking freezing all year round, and its notoriously bitter wind is about as thrilling as it gets. The snowy riverside paths provided CS Lewis with inspiration for Narnia and, much like his world of annoying talking animals, Durham is overrun with narcissistic student bellends who all come from Surrey.

Any good points?

Granted, the cathedral and Norman castle are genuinely spectacular, so much so that the rest looks even worse than it already is. The cobbled streets suggest a fairytale, but are actually a needlessly Everestine climb rewarded by a Slug & Lettuce.

The novelty of getting a pasty starter at one Greggs, then rolling downhill to the other 300 metres away for sausage rolls and doughnuts wears off if you need to chuck up cheap meat and greasy pastry in the public toilet, conveniently placed to ruin the splendour of a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Wonderful landscapes?

The whimsical tree-clad River Wear isn’t quite as famous as the Tyne, and the smart Kingsgate Bridge that runs over it has unfortunately been desecrated by generations of sick and piss. Neighbouring Dunelm House, a Grade II listed building designed by architect Ove Arup, is a brutalist marvel and genuine site of interest, but most want to rip it down for being a drab concrete eyesore.

The older stone buildings look delightful from the train ride into the station. On closer inspection, they only consist of sleepy stationery shops, a sweater emporium and ubiquitous chain restaurants heralded in Durham as innovative.

Hang out at…

The upmarket coffee shop franchise Flat White offers some variety from the dreadful greasy ‘Parmos’ or soggy hog roast baps which remain a staple part of the Durham diet.

The local scran can luckily be avoided by trying inauthentic Italian fare at a rooftop cavern famed for its two-litre bottles of house wine that went off when the monks lived here. You can follow that with a boogie upstairs to cutting-edge new sounds like Angels by Robbie Williams.

If being drunk and unruly in a public place is more your thing, sadly the North Road bus station hangout looks to have been cleaned up recently. Luckily, the Fighting Cocks retains its aura of dread and unwelcomeness – a simmering one-room pot where Sunderland vs Newcastle derby day football matches really come alive.

Where to buy?

Affordable house prices are linked to how little there is to do here, and you can’t easily use a car on Durham’s roads to escape to York. Gilesgate is a suitably drab liminal space, a far cry from places bought more centrally using daddy’s money. Whinney Hill is a pricier toff stronghold, at least dragged down by its proximity to the high security prison. 

The Viaduct area has had a much-needed revamp since only housing a Wilko and spa treatment centre where you get your toes sucked off by goldfish.

From the streets

Stephen Malley, aged 65: “All I’ve ever wanted from life is to break both my ankles getting mortal on cobbled streets and argue with that aggressive joke book salesman in the main square. In somewhere that looks dead lovely. Howay!”