What’s it about?
A reasonably large Midlands city that bears the brunt of being the representative shithole for the whole region, even though it’s better than a fair few of them.
Before it became the post-industrial wasteland it is today, Wolverhampton was a traditional industrial wasteland. It may seem odd to be nostalgic for those soot-blackened days when life expectancy was 30 at best, but only if you don’t know Wolverhampton today.
Queen Victoria described it as a ‘large and dirty town’, a description Wulfrunians wear with pride. While calling themselves Wulfrunians which is clearly unacceptable, as is the accent.
Any good points?
There’s a new train station and soon Tory twat Robert Jenrick will open the office of the Department for Levelling Up, Housing and Community in the city, meaning civil servants will be forced to mingle with the kebab and wig hawkers on Broad Street.
Many famous faces have called Wolverhampton home – or ‘hum’, as the comical regional accent has it – including Noddy Holder and Robert Plant. Enoch ‘Rivers of Blood’ Powell was MP for Wolverhampton South West between 1950 and 1974, so it’s arguably the birthplace of modern British racism.
Wolves have managed to stay in the Premier League for an unexpectedly long time and no players have been embroiled in scandals like kicking cats or feeding poor children. The stadium’s just near the big ASDA, in case you’ve not heard the accent yet.
Wonderful landscape?
Close to the Shropshire hills where you can go on a lovely stroll up a hill and forget all about where you live. A walk up the famous Wrekin kills a Sunday afternoon.
If you’d rather stay closer to home, the classy suburb of Tettenhall is situated up a sandstone hill called The Rock, and in the summer has a paddling pool where bored teenagers get kicked out for splashing all the little kids.
Hang out at…
The city’s cultural hub is Bentley Bridge retail park with multiplex, bowling alley and an absolutely massive B&M Bargains. Engage with the youth of today by visiting the McDonald’s in the middle of the car park, which frequently hosts to impromptu fistfights between patrons as violent as they are disfigured by acne.
Late night? Get yourself to the crowning glory of Wolvo nightlife, The Planet Nightclub. The only reason to venture within the confines of the ring road after nightfall, Planet plays all the biggest emo hits of 2007 and is packed with goths and school lab technicians with piercings. Even has a stripper pole, for some reason.
Where to buy?
Enjoy the lively sound of police helicopters circling overhead? Pick yourself up a former council house in the area of Bushbury Hill, or the Scotlands Estate. Or fly-tipping fans love Wednesfield for its convenient countryside lay-bys.
If you have a nose for bargains, houses near the town’s sewage treatment centre are always available, and the smell is a great talking point on hot summer days. Imagine five neighbours with classic Wolverhampton accents discussing the overpowering stench of shit. How can you resist?
From the streets:
Jordan Gardner, aged 19, said: “When I got glassed in a pub after a Wolves v West Brom match, the staff at New Cross Hospital couldn’t have been more helpful.”
Nikki Hollis, aged 40, said: “I notice that the big Sainsbury’s in town sells samosas, but the little Indian food shop in Whitmore Reans doesn’t sell Coronation chicken sandwiches. It’s reverse racism.”
