Shit Seaside towns

And why you should visit

I’m going to level with you right off the bat lads I do not mean Margate or Cornwall or any of those seaside towns that the older millennials have decided to inhabit and raise the housing prices of, not the towns where everything is painted in pastel tones and getting a cup of sugary builders tea feels like a shout back to your childhood even though the middle class kid with their parents money are behind the cafe bar charging you £3 for the polystyrene cupped pleasure. No, I’m talking Clacton or South End, the towns that are dying because Ryainair will pack you onto a plane for £30 and you can hang out with other Brits who are escaping their mundane office jobs to do shit gak and annoy the residents of whatever Spanish town you’ve decided to descend upon. I realise I’ve just slagged off two core groups of people I’m trying to sell myself to but hear me out. 

Shit seaside towns are one of the most romantic parts of Britain, they have the potential to be our Americana, Britaniana if you will. It’s a heady mix of nostalgia and wholesome fun. I’ve never cared for gambling despite my Grandads one activity to do with us was picking a horse, placing a bet and watching the race - I just never picked it up, however, I asbolutely fuck with 2p machines. I won’t even go on a 10p machine because they seem too indulgent and, if i’m honest, I think we should start rounding everything up to 5p because who can be dealing with coppers, and I would write a piece solely based on that but because of the humble 2p machine I think coppers should stay in circulation. In Vegas kids aren’t allowed to play slots, in Clacton kids are actively encouraged to play 2p machines hoping for a tatty keyring or a pile of more 2ps, but, much like Vegas, the house always wins. Walking into a seaside arcade is like going back in time, no one’s on their phones because everyone’s genuinely enthralled by what’s happening in front of them, lights, loud car noises, loud gun noises, people celebrating after plugging £20 into a claw machine to win a teddy bear you could have got for a fiver on Amazon. They’re close to the beach and everyone in there has salty hair and sun kissed skin that will no doubt be a full on sunburn by the morning. The pull of a shit seaside town isn’t the beach, the beaches are normally stony, full of litter and the sea is murky with used condoms but it’s a marvellous place to people watch. Families turn up with their cars full of enough clobber they could survive a zombie apocalypse for just a few hours on a bad beach, windbreakers made out of the same material as launderette bags, jam sandwiches that’ll be full of sand before you can eat them and several changes of clothes for the kids because kids always throw up on themselves at the seaside. There should always be rides on the beach, if there’s no rides you’re at one of those nice beaches and you need to assess what you’re doing with your life. The rides are normally manned by local teenagers who are taking your £10 begrudgingly while not uttering a word to you and if you think about it for too long you wouldn’t even get on the ride because what’s this teenager going to  do if the ride breaks down and starts hurling towards the sea. Stag do’s and Hen do’s stumbling off a ride looking slightly green and full of regret as you watch and enjoy your fish and chips. Fish and Chips, another staple of any seaside town, to be fair you can get good fish and chips wherever you live, I live in central London and I have at least three Fish and Chip shops I would recommend to a tourist within a mile. I don’t know if the water they wash the spuds in is different on the coast but those chips truly do hit differently. In a cone and covered in salt and vinegar, eating them while semi naked after a swim in a disgusting sea. It’s a dinner well earned. I don’t eat meat but if i’m at the seaside you can bet your hat I’ll be getting a saveloy and some winkles, it’s the done thing, it makes you feel like an old timey fisherman and we all deserve to feel like an old timey fisherman on occasion. 

Once the sun goes down and you’ve plugged more than your budgeting app would allow into arcades the Pier is a lighted beacon of hope. The bars and diddy doughnut spots are still open for service, groups walking down the Pier embracing each other and anytime you see a person in heels you wince because the planks of the Pier have shrunk and they’re definitely going to stack it in a gap between the planks, and it’s ok if they do, their friend will pick them up and laugh about it and the bouncer at the O’Neils they’re heading to will still let them in. There’s Karaoke bars and happy hours and fish bowls full of WKD’s with more lemonade than booze and if you’re coming in from London you can still catch the last train back after enjoying all of the treats the seaside has to offer. Also, if you really need, craft beer has even penetrated the shitter seaside towns - a shout out to West Road tap in Southend. Get yourself a lovely buzz before heading to the beach for a very cold swim even in the height of summer. 

Going to the seaside is suspension of disbelief, you forget all of your day to day anxieties, it’s just a jolly boys outing where you can be yourself and not have that anxiety we have when we go to another country and try our hardest to not be a Brit abroad, you can just be a Brit at home.  Seaside towns are dying and they need our trade to keep the locals in jobs and we’re all in for a staycation now so do away with Butlins and hiking holidays, get yourself down to the sea.

Ty for reading pals, if you enjoyed please share with your mum and your aunties and your favourite old man down the pub. xo