Portsmouth is so much more than a seaside town, it’s the most beautiful place in the UK

Portsmouth. Lovingly described as the arsehole of England – one presumes because of more than just its geographic location – it is often given a bad rep. But unlike Surrey or Devon – or some other equally dull hometown – Portsmouth has something which you can’t buy with Daddy’s money: character.

“Oh, Portsmouth, I went there once, we took the ferry to France to stay in the family villa, I didn’t really spend any time there but it was lovely” say the droves of people who have only seen Gun Wharf Quays. Portsmouth isn’t all Ralph Lauren outlets though: it’s hard as nails. Our water is so hard it comes out of the tap wearing a tracksuit. Don’t expect an easy ride coming here, it’s far from the soft, unassuming town you see on the way to Saint-Malo.

White, sandy beaches

Sure it’s a bit rough and ready, but it’s been the nurturing, fertile land for many of our best-loved British acts (Oasis) and is even home to the gym where Arnold Schwarzenegger trained for his Mr Universe title. If you can survive Portsmouth, then you are ready to take on the world. Ironically, if you train as PADI diver in Portsmouth, then you are ready to dive anywhere, as the quality of the water is some of the worst there is.

Let’s not forget the many greats who have graced the ground of Fratton Park playing for Pompey: Glen Johnson, Nwankwo Kanu, Niko Kranjcar, Sol Campbell, Thierry Henry, David James and Patrik Berger, to name just a few. And why have these players been successful in their careers? I’m not saying it is because they were at Portsmouth, not at all. But I’m not NOT saying that. What’s more, we are the only football team to have kept hold of the FA Cup for six years. It’s no coincidence Fratton Park backwards is Nottarf Krap.

You’ve probably heard some of the stories, like attacking a paediatrician’s office because it vaguely sounded like “paedophile” (although, why would a paedophile have a brass plaque outside his/her’s house?) or having the highest rate of crime in a single street in Europe. But really, it’s just part of the charm of the place, it’s the bad boy that your mother told you stay away from, but whose charm you simply couldn’t resist.

You laugh in your ivory towers on holiday in the Seychelles, drinking red wine at the table with your parents, discussing going into the family business or going in to finance. But while you are doing that, we are out in the streets, having a pint, having a laugh, maybe a fight, maybe burning down a paediatrician’s office, enjoying the fleeting absurdity that is life. And guess what? You are welcome to join us, unless you are from Southampton, then please don’t. Pompey ’till I die.

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