Britons Debate Which Town Is the Most Unpleasant

A spirited debate broke out between two men from English towns known for their less-than-pleasant reputations. Ryan Whittaker, originally from Hinckley in Leicestershire, and James Bates from Ashton-under-Lyne, engaged in a lively exchange about which locale holds the title for being the most unappealing.

The argument escalated when Whittaker claimed that Hinckley was worse than Ashton-under-Lyne. Bates countered with a vivid recount of the rough experiences he has encountered in his hometown. “Ashton’s proper rough, mate. I once saw a man’s nose shattered in a McDonald’s and he wasn’t doing anything but sit there with his nuggets,” he stated. “Walk down our high street at night and see what the teenagers call you.”

Whittaker quickly retorted, “You think that’s rough? Hinckley doesn’t even have a high street. The whole thing is side streets, even the high street. And all our teenagers are 30 years old. Every year, the kids are born older, that’s how rough it is.” He described Hinckley as “medieval—in a bad way, not in a sexy incest Game of Thrones way” and lamented that the only entertainment available is getting drunk and passing out.

Bates struck back, saying, “Pass out? Do that in Ashton and you won’t wake up. You have to stay awake no matter how pissed you are.” He added that even falling unconscious after a violent incident requires a trek to nearby Dukinfield.

In a twist, another observer, Hannah Tomlinson, interjected, “Not getting involved. Except clearly neither of them has been to Redcar, where I’m from.” Her comment sparked laughter and a sense of camaraderie among bystanders, who seemed to relish the humorous nature of the exchange.

In an unrelated incident, a group of diners at D’Agostino’s in Reading highlighted the social dynamics surrounding payment practices among friends. On August 30, 2025, six friends who typically split their bills found themselves calculating individual expenses at the sight of a hefty total.

Emma Bradford, one of the attendees, recounted how their group changed from a casual approach to a meticulous breakdown of the bill after one member, Tom, ordered multiple drinks. “Ordering drinks is basically an exercise in conformity worthy of psychological study. The first person’s booze-or-not decision sets the pattern for the table,” she noted.

As Tom’s order expanded, the group realized their usual method of splitting the bill would not suffice. “Pretty soon we realised there was no way we could cover our losses through desserts or the charcuterie board,” Bradford explained, reflecting on the momentary panic that ensued.

Eventually, Fern, another member of the group, suggested they each pay for what they consumed, leading to murmurs of agreement. Tom, who had indulged more than the others, felt the pressure. “He mumbled something about it being easier to split it,” Bradford remarked, “but he knew his share was going to be £68. That took the shine off his happy drunk. Serve him right.”

Carlo Gremo, the restaurant manager, observed a common trend among patrons, noting that the intoxicated diners often promise to settle their debts later but rarely follow through. “The drunk one always goes quiet, then offers to sort it out ‘on Revolut tomorrow.’ But tomorrow, it never comes,” he stated.

These two incidents reflect not only the humorous aspects of small-town rivalries but also the social dynamics of dining out. Both stories resonate with a sense of community, camaraderie, and the shared experiences that often define friendships.