Cleethorpes is a salty little seaside resort on the east coast of England. From its beach tourists can enjoy fine views of merchant shipping and brown water. This is because it is not really by the sea, but actually sits on the lip of the mud-laden River Humber.
It was, officially, the only town in the UK with an inbuilt sense of irony. This was when then the Cleethorpes Tourist Board came up with the slogan ‘Cleethorpes, The Last Resort’. Unfortunately it has recently been outdone by Hull, their nearby historical rival on the other side of the river. Their Tourist Board recently ran a series of advertisements with the copyline ‘Hull: Don’t Come Here, It’s Shit’.
If you are a single man then the best time to visit Cleethorpes is September to May, i.e. out of season. All the pubs, clubs and bingo halls are still open and the local women are gagging for new talent as there is a shortage of holidaymakers to fornicate with. However, the local male population will have no tourists to stab hence your chances of hospitalisation are higher.
The beaches are nice for used syringe collecting and the sea is just about safe for swimming as long as you are willing to fight your way through the sewerage outflows and discarded sanitary ware.
It did have a theme park called Pleasure Island. This was the only theme park in the UK where you were guaranteed no queues for the ageing rides. It was known locally as Displeasure Island. Unsurprisingly it closed recently. The little roller coaster on the beach is as good as it gets now.
I would recommend that you make your visit sooner rather than later. This is because there is a planning strategy being followed to by the town council which revolves around demolishing anything of cultural or historical significance.
Recent casualties include;
The Winter Gardens, a rock venue that saw the likes of The Sex Pistols, The Damned and The Stranglers play there and is now a block of flats
JDs, a nightclub that looked favourably on those that were good at lying about their age, now flats.
The Lifeboat, a pub that not only lavished alcohol upon those under age, but also warned them about impending police raids and turned a blind eye to sex in the toilets, now flats.
The Sand Dunes (not a pub or club name, the real thing) rather remarkably they have been destroyed by a plague of invasive thorn bushes but I’m quite happy to blame the council for that one too. On the plus side it is difficult to build flats on top of thorn bushes, but on the downside the town’s younger population has nowhere left to lose their virginity. If you walk a long way along the coast towards the Greenwich Meridian and out to the sea you can still find some last vestige of them.
There is one remaining tourist attraction that is worth seeing. The UK has a popular TV glove puppet bear called Sooty, however he has not been seen on our screens for some years. This is because Sooty and his little chums were kidnapped, imprisoned in a glass box and put on display in one of the town’s slot machine arcades. For 10p a go they are forced to play ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’, over and over again, many times a day.
However, they were happy to do a special request for me (see video).
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