WHAT’S it about?
A lot of trains go through here. You’ve probably changed trains here once. Maybe, if there was an hour or more’s delay, you wandered out to find a street of Cash Converters and violent pubs and concluded it was rough near the station. No. It’s all like that.
Any good points?
Urban planning fans will love Crewe’s dehumanising system of roundabouts and dual carriageways. Or if you’re a pedestrian, wander around the town centre with its wide range of vape shops, charity shops, closed shops and market stalls selling second-hand stairlifts that somebody died in.
Or venture further to the retail park filled with the same fucking shops you see everywhere else, from Next to Sports Direct to Food Warehouse. The car park’s especially confusing to facilitate near-misses and punch-ups between angry men in their early 40s.
The Cheshire plain is flat and featureless. To make up for this, Crewe’s criss-crossed with a network of train tracks and hardly any bridges, so one wrong turn means you’re driving seven miles out of your way. Even if you’ve lived here your whole life don’t expect to recognise landmarks. It’s terraced streets and railings around industrial facilities whichever way you go.
Queens Park is stunning in comparison. In summer you can watch a thriving population of yobs playing threatening football, and it has a small island commemorating the Burma campaign in WW2. Take your kids to learn about interesting Japanese war atrocities.
But the jewel in the crown has to be the local park’s game of giant chess, which despite not being exceptionally giant is even more thrilling than the permanently empty bandstand. ‘When a man is tired of giant chess he is tired of fucking Crewe,’ as Dr Johnson would have said.
Hang out at…
The Lyceum Theatre. It’s not exactly the West End, so you’re less likely to see Mark Rylance in the new Mamet, and more likely to see Bradley Walsh in Dick Whittington. Or An Evening With Susie Dent which all parties involved will very much regret.
The Limelight used to be the nation’s top tribute band venue, with a new collection of musicians whose dreams have died imitating better musicians for money every night of the week. It’s now boarded up.
Gourmet? Conveniently located by the station is a vast array of cheap, identical and radically unhygenic takeaways. 15 different flavours of kebab meat in a bun, one of which will kill you.
Where to buy?
Crewe offers many cheap terraced house-shares, great for meeting new people who like listening to loud music at 3am and are strange in an intimidating way.
There are plenty of highly desirable out-of-town properties, but that’s leafy Cheshire so you can f**k off. Unless you’re a consulting doctor married to a stockbroker or one of Cheshire’s many professional footballer arseholes. All of whom pretend Crewe doesn’t exist until they need a bong for a dinner party.
From the streets:
Tom Logan, aged 36: “I moved here 15 years ago for work and I could never be arsed to move somewhere better. I’d highly recommend it to anyone wanting to relocate somewhere superficially tolerable that slowly sucks the life out you.”
Ryan Whittaker, aged 17: “It’s great because in a lot of town centres, gangs of teenagers aren’t around to strut around like they own the fucking place, walking five abreast and sweeping strangers into the gutter. But they are in Crewe.”