If Jeremy Kyle did a paternity test for a small suburban town, Didcot would be the father

A suburban commuter town in the South, you would think, is not a particularly stimulating place to grow up. The experience is mostly generic: you go to the local comprehensive, then the attached sixth-form (or a college further afield if you’re adventurous), and wait impatiently for the day you can leave and move to a more exotic city at least an hour away. But, after a good dose of city life, you begin to think to back the halcyon days spent drinking tinnies on your slightly less grimy childhood streets.

This winter break is possibly my last extended visit to the mean streets of Didcot, Oxfordshire. Occasionally referred to by school aged locals as ‘Shitcot’, it magically transforms into nearby city ‘Oxford’ upon describing where you’re from to university friends. Or, ‘as in… ‘Didcot Parkway??’ if they’re slightly more in the know. Back home for Christmas, I decided to take a moment to reminisce and embark on a journey to truly capture the spirit and joy of this under-appreciated town.

There’s more than just a power station

My town has several. We’re well known for the (not quite) dreaming spires of the huge power stations watching over our town. These are on their way to being demolished, prompting a huge town-wide rebrand. These were our symbol of industrial hope – my primary school jumper even featured them prominently on the logo. They’re even there, blurred in the background, of that webcam episode of Black Mirror. And on everyone’s snap-stories, ironically, capturing the fame their hometown now basks in. Complete with the power station snapchat filter.

Whilst this is the main attraction in Didcot, there are a few other great spots. One I always find myself coming back to is the Didcot Labour Club. In the prime spot nearly opposite the train station, lies the derelict and abandoned ale house that once was. Brilliantly graffitied for absolutely no reason, are the words ‘Meat is Murder’ and ‘Morrissey’. Where the connection lies between this place and the dulcet tones of The Smiths, I may never get to find out. A true town mystery.

Your school’s maroon blazer somehow attracted locals in the park

Didcot is slightly unusual in the sense that we have two massive single sex comprehensives on opposite ends of town. Everyone going to all girls’ and all boys’ schools means the children are all not quite right in the head, but that’s just an opinion. Going to the girls’ school was mostly alright.

The only things I can really recall is doing Maths in a terrapin, which is probably quite universal really. And the slightly strange girls who would talk to weird guys on bikes through the chainlink fence separating the school field from a local park. This is also possibly state school universal? Wearing a Maroon blazer wasn’t much of a treat either; it wasn’t such an appealing autumnal colour in my day.

From what I’ve heard, going to the boys’ school consisted of mostly fist to fist brawls on the field fuelled with testosterone and boredom. Our sixth-form was mixed sex however, just to adjust us to living in the almost real world. Classes were split over both schools, which meant missing the shuttle bus probably once a week and eating too many Subways conveniently located exactly halfway between both schools. The real treat was when your friends learnt to drive and could take you to McDonalds, unreachable by foot, between classes.

The refurb brought us USA Fried Chicken – hallelujah

If you think back to the very early days of the town, pre-Orchard Centre, all that existed in Didcot was one lonely Savers that shut down, and a Peacocks. Now we have loads of great stuff. Whilst in Didcot, it’s important to sample some of the great local cuisine on offer. Top of the list, is U.S.A Fried Chicken.

Having undergone a massive refurbishment, it’s thankfully not quite the same as when those creepy chicken shop fellas would suggestively give you a free wing, but the fries are just as good. If you’d rather, there is the highly acclaimed and creatively named ‘Sandwich Shop’ just across the road. As for souvenirs, there are more charity shops than people – so pop in and get yourself a (slightly musty) new set of wavvy garms whilst in town.

A trip to Didcot isn’t complete without sampling some our fine drinking establishments. It was tragic for all when the shining beacon of filth that was ‘The Wally’ closed after the owner apparently ran away because of tax evasion. But we’re not short of alternatives. For a sophisticated tipple, make a trip to the ‘The Prince of Wales’.

If you want to get a real feel for the rough and undiluted essence of Didcot, rumour has it ‘Broadways’ opens until 3am on a Friday. For a big night out, you’re better off getting the train into Oxford so you can insta a classic picture of you on the bull statue outside the station to prove you ventured further out for inebriation than the local.

Didcot has a serious gang problem

Didcot, like many small boring towns, had several rivalling gangs. As basically having been a massive nerd my whole life, I never got summoned to join or know anything about them in particular detail other than hearsay. Upon research, I’ve heard these are mostly disbanded now. I know for a fact, however, the power players were ‘TST’ (Terra Street Troopers). This may have been a separate to The Didcot Massive or the same entity, nobody seems to know.

If you were on the younger side, you were recruited by The TST ‘Y00tz’. The main showdown of the year took place at the annual Didcot Street Fair, against the nemesis that existed in The Abingdon Massive, locally known as ‘Sacky’ (named after Sackville Road). I never saw this actually happen because I was happily eating candyfloss on the steps outside Sainsbury’s and riding on classic fairground rides such as Mad Max, but I imagine it being absolutely brutal.

Everyone has rose-tinted memories

The thing that really makes this town is the nostalgic musings and memories of bygone days. I looked to the following ex-locals to retell their fondest anecdotes and giving you some sound advice.

On what you love and hate about Didcot:

“It’s that combination of not rough enough to be dangerous, exciting or edgy – but still a bit rough around the edges. And there’s not enough to do. I’m not anti- Didcot though, I’m patriotic to Oxfordshire. My cousin came all the way from Brisbane, Australia and we took him to Broadways. I just find that beautiful. He loved it, he didn’t know the rep it had – he was just happy.”

On a Didcot night out:

“Every step you take, it’s sticky. The amount of disgusting 50 years that come up to you looking for sex. I’m not even kidding…”

On parks:

“Everyone looks like they’re on the Jeremy Kyle Show, or maybe the Walking Dead. Just go out onto the street. There’s not much to do, but you find things – like hanging out in the park. I remember one time, my friend needed a shit so he did it in the park. Once me and this girl were getting it on in my car in Wittenham Clumps, good view of the whole of Didcot. The police assumed we were doing drugs, so they knocked on the window – saw that we were half undressed and sweaty. Just left us to it, and said “enjoy your night, Sir”.

On escaping Didcot:

“We all hate it, and no one wants to be here. But we can’t escape it. We all come back, in the end.”

On single-sex schooling:

“Going to an all-boys’ school never felt like a weird thing. As soon as I went to university and told people I did, there was this worldwide assumption that I was consequently a raging homosexual.”

On the friendly locals:

Will: “We put our cycles on the floor outside this apartment block in Didcot and went in. When we came back out, this… heroin-ed up lady, that’s the most middle-class way I can think of describing her.”

Lyle: “Crazy addict, that’s what she was, she shouted at us… ‘what the fuck are you doing leaving your bikes out here, there’s someone selling crack downstairs!!!!’. Bait is the word. Good way to keep it under wraps. ”

Will: “We just cycled away.”

On attempted murder:

Megan: “This guy who I went to primary school with was a Satanist, and he decided to hammer his sister in the head. Which he did. Where is he now?”

Rachel: “Probably jail.”

On actual murder:

Ehsen: “Two people got murdered recently. That’s on Google.”

Holly: “This guy pulled a knife out on me, like before he killed someone. Rest in peace.”

Ehsen: “Jeremy Kyle, you need to hear this story bruv.”