Let's move to the set of Bridgerton built by the slave trade! This week: Bath

What’s it about?

Home to Roman Baths, stunning Georgian architecture, and an unparalleled ability to ignore its links to the slave trade, Bath has truly earned its World Heritage Site status.

Jane Austen lived here briefly and hated it. But if you like narrow streets clogged with dawdling tourists taking photos every six feet, you’ll love it.

Any good points?

Bath is unrelentingly nice. The Royal Crescent is nice, the red-chino-wearing residents are nice, even the McDonald’s on Southgate Street is a posh colours so as not to disrupt the regency charm. The downside to all this niceness is that moronic fuckers flock from all over to marvel at how nice it is.

Some of these idiots come to taste Bath’s delicious selection of ales. Others are so stupid they visit the shitty Frankenstein museum, or watch a film on the Little Theatre Cinema’s out-of-focus screens.

But if there’s one thing they all have in common though, it’s that they make the city centre a fucking nightmare to get through quickly at weekends.

Wonderful landscape?

Just like everything else in Bath, its natural surroundings are pissing gorgeous. Nestled in the Avon Valley and girdled by gorgeous limestone hills; beautiful trees bend over all of its streets; and the river Avon has a relatively small amount of raw sewage pumped into it on a daily basis. It makes York look a shithole.

There are also a wealth of parks free to sit in and think ‘Christ, this is a nice place’. But that’s it. That’s the peak of experiencing nice things. Everywhere else in the country will be shit in comparison, so you’ve only got disappointment and misery to look forward to. Thanks a lot, Bath, you scenic dickhead.

Hang out at…

Bath is a high-functioning alcoholic’s paradise. No matter who you are there will be a pub to suit your needs. Are you a curmudgeon trapped inside an old man’s body? Look no further than The Star Inn. Or perhaps you’re a trendy dickhead who likes folk music, in which case head to The Grapes. Even people who hate Keir Starmer will find a home in The Raven.

There’s loads of cultural shit you can do like visit the Fashion Museum or the Recreation Ground or that house on the Circus which has creepy Victorian dolls in the window, but why bother? Even visiting a shit pub like the Cork is a better use of your time.

Where to buy…

You can’t buy in Bath. You haven’t been able to buy in Bath since 1798. You can rent a bedsit in Oldfield Park and say you live in Bath or inherit a mansion on Great Pulteney Street from your slave-trading forebears. There’s no middle ground.

From the streets:

Tom Booker, 33, underbite possessor: “Bath has lots of amazing qualities, but the best thing about it was in 2020 when the Christmas market was cancelled due to Covid. Those tacky huts selling shit like wooden ties really get in the fucking way.”

Mary Fisher, 45, tour guide: “This is where those people from that Netflix show you wanked over shagged. That’ll be £50, please.”

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Mash Blind Date: Prince Andrew and the grateful, celebrating nation he'd like to love him again

BRITAIN: riding a wave of beer-soaked nostalgia for our monarch all week. Prince Andrew: ready to be taken back into our hearts. Can it happen? 

Andrew on Britain

First impression?

A nation manifestly frothing over with excitement at the chance to give thanks to the Royal Family, of which I’m a key member. A nation ready to forgive and move on together. A nation gagging for Andy.

How was conversation? 

Marvellous. I spoke, about my military record and achievements, then Britain said something, then I told an amusing story I’d heard off Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, then they spoke again and I had to speak over them. Like any conversation.

Memorable moments?

When I flung off my coat to reveal my full dress uniform and said ‘I am the Duke of York, and you may kneel’. The expression of wide-mouthed delight was worth it. I knew the public still loved me.

Favourite thing about the UK? 

For me, it has to be its tireless adoration of its betters and the opportunities that affords. I mentioned how much I’m looking forward to long, lazy summers on the Royal Yacht. They seemed grateful.

A capsule description? 

The rock on which the beacon of monarchy shines.

What happened afterwards? 

My car came, and I returned to Windsor Castle to tell Mother it had all gone well and to ready a place for me on the balcony next to her. Because Britain loves me again.

What would you change about the evening? 

I wouldn’t have gone to that particular Pizza Express. After all the fuss it’s really rather shabby.

Will you see each other again?  

Indubitably. This very week. I’ll be the one waving.

Britain on Prince Andrew

First impression?

Is that… one of the Royals? Is that Prince f**king Andrew? Why’s he grinning and inviting me to bow? Does he not know what he did?

How was conversation? 

Nightmarish. He just told stories about helicopters and Arab princes and golf courses, all very loudly while not looking at me. Then when I said ‘You should be ashamed of what you did,’ he’d take a breath, ignore me and carry on.

Memorable moments?

When I called him Prince Nonce and he didn’t react.

Favourite thing about Andrew? 

When I had a private word with the waitress and ordered him Diavolo sauce with extra jalapenos. Guess what the bastard did? Sweated.

A capsule description? 

Twat paedo parasite.

Was there a spark? 

It’s soured the whole Jubilee.

What happened afterwards? 

He left without paying.

What would you change about the evening? 

I would not go on a date with a man credibly accused of sex with a trafficked minor. Who even before that was an arsehole.

Will you see each other again?  

Oh, the Queen’ll trot him out. She loves her Andy. And once she’s off his brother will put him in the Tower.