Dartford needs help immediately
Dartford is so fucking tired. Jesus Christ, help that place. Oh my goodness. How can one town centre have three Greggs and not a single Primark? Are you actually, you've actually lost it. Number one, why on earth does Market Street smell like a mix of BO, piss, and charity shops 24-7? I can't even walk to the station in peace because my nose is just constantly being attacked by these foreign fumes. Number two, why the hell are all these cars and these white vans treating that market centre like the M25 if you don't get a grip of yourselves? Trying to run me over. Trying to run me damn over. This place is already just about 14 square metres. It can barely fit three of us, and you're coming in with your silly little van so you can come and sell fish on the market street. Are you mad? Are you mad? Number three, why on earth does it cost me eight bloody pounds to take an Uber from here to fucking Dartford station? Are you crazy or what? Jesus bloody heck. It's a six-minute drive, and it's eight quid. Oh. Dartford, you need help. You've closed down your fucking Primark for absolutely no reason. My last drop of sanity. Jesus Christ, you've got a JD that has about two workers. They look miserable and a hot mess 24-7. No one leaves that store with a JD bag, ever. Ever. Do they even sell JD bags there? Do they even, or do you just walk out with the box? I need to know now. Rubbish. Rubbish place. Absolutely rubbish. Don't understand. Don't understand it. Stinks of piss, that fucking stupid little alleyway to get to the station near the flipping Orchard Theatre and the old comic book stand, smells of absolute shit and piss boiled in a kettle. Fix it!