A guide to picking up drugs in Bournemouth
You got any gum mate? Let’s have some of that water
Bournemouth had its heyday in the Victorian times, when the pier was worth giving a shit about. Nowadays, it’s a quiet little seaside town, the destination of choice for TV “personalities” like Spencer Mathews, or internet personalities like The Wealdstone Raider, via their agents and whichever club booked them.
So, distract yourself from it all and delve into the world of drugs – the market’s never been so saturated, and the dealers must study marketing. They send more promotional texts than Tiger Tiger, and they’re full of hashtags, opening hours and deals. The good times are only a text, an awkward phone call, and a 15 (really 45) minute wait away.
There’s no better place to take Class C drugs than in a Class C town. Most of the shite in this category, however, is the sort of drug you could get if you tried to bribe a hospital worker into hooking you up (see: Dallas Buyers Club).
Primarily for clinical application and use, you won’t get much of a buzz off any of this. The only thing of note here are the anabolic steroids – these are really only recommended for those who already have a balanced gym schedule.
Stop by any gym and you’ll no doubt find it’s a veritable treasure trove of ‘roids if you get chatting to the right people.
If you’re lucky, when you’re buying something more offensive (legally speaking, of course) than class Cs, your connection might throw in some vallies to take the edge off your lean. If you’re lucky.
Most of these come in the “Bait Uni Drug Taking Starter Kit” – Weed? Check. Ket? Check. Speed? Check. ‘Drone? Check. Added bonus high: Methylphenidate (you know, the one that makes you concentrate when you’re revising for exams).
After a heavy night on gurners, unwind with a fat zoot (get your 12” Raws from selected Premiers and the Bingham Road corner shop), slip into anaesthetic oblivion with a half g of horse tranquiliser, or chase the zenith of your high with some MCAT.
If you’re looking to buy, head straight to the car park behind Iceland in Winton, or that strip of wasteland between the Gardens and the beach. Many a twenty draw scored under that bridge.
We’re all familiar with the term “drought” – you know, when there’s no weed about. I’m not sure what the equivalent terminology is for a lack of cocaine – as dry as a Colombian summer? Anyway, since a couple of high-profile arrests, I hear it won’t be snowing in Bournemouth anytime soon, ifyouknowwhatImean.
But it’s all right – the country’s inundated with super-strong UPS pills right now, so remember to nip to your local post office to pick up before the next Get Satisfied or Treatment. Don’t blame me for your comedown though.