A crappy little part of England on the edge of Wales, which is full of farmers and sports freaks. There are about 10 nice people who live in the entire land of Shropshire, the rest are over the age of 50 or a total pricks. Don't move there, move out. I can't understand why anyone would want to be surrounded by hills and feilds with no phone signal. Raising your children there is the worst thing you can do to them, they will become fucked up with no qualifications cause half the pricks in there class are destroying any of there chances of doing something productive with there life.
Person 1: Where are you from?
Person 2: Manchester
Person 1: I've always wanted to live there!
Person 2: Why, where are you from?
Person 1: Shropshire
Person 2: Ouch.
Contrary to other definitions on here, (who I suspect has never been in shropshire) It is a nice county, with lots of variation. (E.g. there is the rural areas, but there are lots of very built up areas).
And no, not everyone from Shropshire is a farmer. In fact, very few people are farmers here.
And also, people are clever here, not everyone is stupid. There are stupid people, but there are stupid people everywhere. And whats wrong with stupid people? THEY CAN'T HELP IT.
And I don't get what people mean about sports freaks.
And as for phone signal, I get THE BEST phone signal.
Baisically, you should move to Shropshire.
person 1: Hey
person 2: Where are you from?
2: Surely that makes you a farmer?
2: Surely that makes you a sport freak?
2: Surely that means you're stupid?
2: Surely that means you have no phone signal?
1: HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO SHROPSHIRE?
A beautiful English county, easily accessed from the West Midlands. Shropshire is one of the few places where you may enjoy solitude if that is what you are seeking. There are hills in Shropshire from where the sound of traffic can not be heard.
Shropshire has many different aspects: woodland, hills, farmland, bustling towns and pretty villages. People who want a place to explore will find untold treasures and an abundance of history, looked after by dedicated volunteers, used as inspiration by artists and enjoyed by thousands of visitors every year.
The Shropshire Hills
A mysterious location, Shropshire is believed to be found roughly between the Irish Sea, Manchester, Birmingham, Norway, the Battlestar Galactica and the M54. It has been said to be a place of wondrous beauty and mystery, with historical tradition from the Battle of Shrewsbury to the Ironbridge Gorge, alongside a rich tradition of rural arts, crafts and fine foods.
Unfortunately, the above is mere legend. In truth everyone in Shropshire is a farmer, inbred and with about as much IQ as a fly on a piece of horse shit.
Residents of Shropshire are deeply superstitious and territorial in nature. Visitors to Shropshire – cited by residents as ‘Townies’ or ‘City cunts’ – are often made to feel uneasy and often find the fact that no-where within the county is open to serve a decent coffee on a Sunday morning highly traumatic. It is advised also that if you are of an ethnic or European background to avoid Shropshire at all costs. Pitchforks and satanic rituals. That’s all I’m saying.
On the positive side, and contrary to popular opinion, you can get decent phone signal in Shropshire. If you are a visitor and find yourself being chased by an army of pitchfork welding farmers this means direct connection to the emergency services. However due to Tory funding cuts, these services are now run by a Sheep and pair of mating ducks, which has so far proved unsuccessful.
Person 1: Hello, I see by your quirky dress consisting of a tweed coat, flatcap, slight whiff of sour milk shit and with a pitchfork as an accessory, that you are a farmer and thus a resident of Shropshire?
Person 2: Aye.
Person 1. I see that you seem offended by my proper use of the English language, my pleasant demeanour and Topman dress code.
Person 2: Aye.
Person 1: I see that you have directed your pitchfork toward my Iphone that I'm currently holding, with a look of suspicion and fear.
Person 2: Aye.
Person 1: I sense that your going to sound out a cry to your fellow farming folk, and run me out of the village?
Person 2: Aye.
Person 1: In that case I'm calling the police! *dials 999* Hello? Hello? Is this a....am I on the phone to a sheep?
Voice on end of phone: Baaaaaa.