A TRASHY GUIDE TO… BLACKPOOL
Location: Above Liverpool. Left of Manchester. Up from Wales a bit. Opposite Ireland.
Blackpool’s illustrious career began back in the industrial revolution when everyone from down t’mines decided they needed some R&R, but couldn’t afford the fare to Phuket.
It boasts the longest beach in Europe. Or Britain. Or England. Or Lancashire. Or something. It is very long. Donkeys. Ratty ones. Everywhere.
Those that remain are legless, either literally or figuratively.
Of those that are figuratively legless, the vast majority are from Glasgow, with Manchester coming a close second. Glaswegians think the climate is positively balmy.
Blackpool Tower is the centre of everything. There’s a big fancy ballroom down at the bottom – BBC’s glittering Strictly Cometh Dancing has a little jaunt there every season, which its big stars from London must LOVE – and you can go up the top. On a good day, you can see all the way to somewhere!
If you’re posh, you live in Lytham St Annes. Its residents would probably happily nuke Blackpool. Les Dawson lived here.
The Blackpool Illuminations were invented to stretch the summer season beyond recognition, and consist of miles upon miles of twinkling things, a bit like Regent Street at Christmas yet not at all. If you’re from absolutely anywhere northern, you go see them every year whether you want to or not. Normally ‘opened’ by someone who was big in the ‘80s.
Pleasure Beach is where the action is, whether on the Big One (it’s a really big dipper) or behind the candyfloss stall with a Fab lolly. It’s what is known in the business as a ‘contradiction in terms’.
If you’re here on holiday and you’re under 83, you’re being ironic.