Far from the romantic ideal of rural village life, the two choices facing Irchester's habitants are either being unemployed and on smack or being unemployed with an alcohol and domestic violence problem.
90% of the population are somehow related but that doesn't stop 'em going at each other. More than likely on the village "rec" after a couple of bottles of White Lightning.
The locals tend to be harmless, as they tend to be so lazy, even having a row is a lot of work. Don't drop your guard, mind because the Country Park has a treat in store for anyone who likes having their bike stolen - yup, pikeys.
Irchester gippo's seem to have misunderstood the "travellers" moniker, since the fuckers have been there for nigh on thirty years.
All in all, a thoroughly depressing, inbred shanty town with about as much charisma as Piers Morgan.
Billy: Tarmac your droive, sor?
A place where the rich are richer and the poor are swept under the rug being pushed to 'that' end of the village. The young drink easily available liquor from flasks kept in their Coach bags. The old ignore such behaviors as they toke up with the neighbours.
irchester is in such a fuckin dream world.
you live in arkwright; oh 'that' end of the village