Crack infested English ghettos, per the usual

At some point in reading of all of my musings regarding crack addicted England, you must have thought to yourself, “Oh, it isn’t that bad. Cassidy is just exaggerating.”
Firstly, I would like to point out that I’m actually a fairly evenly balanced person that can find some good in the world under most unpolished and grungy surfaces.
Secondly, I would like to point out an article in the Guardian from today….
It is aptly titled Cocaine use in Britain so high that it has contaminate our drinking water, report shows.
Now, just in case you are not as familiar with crack cocaine as the average young Brit is, then let me tell you that – yes – crack is one of those things that triggers a positive for cocaine on drug tests. Crack is nothing more than cocaine that someone has bastardized by cooking it up on some baby mama’s ghetto stove with baking soda and drug psychosis induced love.
The news article goes on to have a few gems:
“Cocaine use in the UK is now so common that traces of the drug have contaminated the drinking water supply.”
“‘We have the near highest level of cocaine use in western Europe,’ he said. ‘It has also been getting cheaper and cheaper at the same time as its use has been going up.'”
Okay kids, another lesson – cocaine is not getting cheaper and cheaper, but crack cocaine certainly is. This is just the news media trying to gloss over their vast sprawling ghetto problems with a sad and wasted attempt at making the problems appear to be of a slightly higher class.
If you would like to read the rest of the Guardian story, here’s the link:
As for the story of my time served in England, here’s the link to it, as always:

I should probably mention….

That there is an Amazon Kindle promo for the eBook, making it 0.99 today and tomorrow in the UK and the US (sorry Japan). It was available at that low price yesterday too, but I was too busy to mention it while wandering a foreign land in search of a power plug adapter that would actually allow my laptop to function AND plug into a wall. Oh, the trauma of travel.
US link:
UK link:

The English Language

I went in to England expecting to learn a  dialect of English. Instead, when it came to the areas near small shops and takeaway restaurants, it ended up being more akin to learning the signals given by primates at the zoo. I learned what a high piercing language-less wail meant in comparison to the lower grunting. I began to learn what the different grunts and series of grunt meant – some were sexual, some referred to drugs, and some were just a reaction to new people entering the environment (the latter is higher pitched and more urgent sounding).

Education, Class Status, and England

According to statistics, the vast majority of those living around the poverty line will not attend university. Some populated areas will see as few as one (sometimes not even that) poor child move on to attending university within a given year. This is despite the requirement that they all attend school until they are sixteen to eighteen years old, which one would think would naturally lead to university at least for some.

They simply do not attempt to reach to a higher level and assume that where they are born is where they will remain. This becomes an issue when the majority of them are being born into the ever expanding housing projects that litter much of the English landscape. They cherish and are proud of where they are from, even if it is the ghetto. This is how the proud and loud welfare queen crack addict with a love of canned rap music comes to be, and why she is not in a minority. She revels in being a drug addicted scrounger because that is where she comes from. It is pride.



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I have to say that I am quite honored.  I didn’t really know how this all was going to go. I have to admit that the book was mainly written as a form of therapy in order to get over my Post-England-Stress-Disorder, but I hope it proves entertaining and useful for my readers as well🙂



The Family Unit

I have heard every curse word in the world flung at a two year old with what sounds like a combination of rage and psychotic glee. I have heard constant tormenting, screaming and what I can only assume are small bodies slamming against walls just moments after hearing cheerful goodbyes and a car door close.

Sometimes the other person will forget something, get out of the car and come back to hear the abuse. The abuse will immediately stop in their presence and the exaggerated happy voices saying things like “Oh, innit (isn’t it) wonderful that Johnny can see the keys are there?” will come back out again until about five seconds after the visitor leaves. They will even have gotten Johnny involved in the overly loud and artificially cheerful goodbyes as their guest walked out the door. It is almost comical (if it were not so horrific) and can be counted down precisely to the second if one has been observing it for long enough. There were days when England felt like hell on earth. The family is the core of a society. If they abuse each other like that, then what would they be willing to do to someone that isn’t family? It’s barbaric.


The Prized Welfare State

The natives of England consider welfare payments to be a prized national gem and mistakenly think that everyone else is out to take this treasure from them. They are absolutely convinced that every foreigner, even those from first world countries, have all traveled great distances just to steal their cherished welfare and role around in wondrous poverty and dependence on government along with the British.

The dissimilarity is built in to the language. In America we consider welfare a failure because so many people are on it, and in England they consider it a success because so many people are on it. The British don’t really understand that difference in language – they just understand that their successful welfare and booming teen pregnancy rates are a treasure bestowed upon them for eating and breathing so wonderfully – and that it is indeed a success in their terminology.


Quaint Row Houses

“People peek out from behind curtains as if frightened to be seen. Rubbish floats down the street, and sad or angry looking people plod down the walkways on occasion.  Grass will often go uncut unless the government housing management (called the council) can be bothered to do it. Young welfare mothers can be seen and heard screaming loudly to each other and pushing multiple prams (strollers) down the street. These type of English are not quiet when amongst themselves. They are loud, brash, and exceedingly rude and demanding in many cases. They feel entitled and they just want more, more, more and will try to force it out of anyone that they can.”

Child Abuse

With parenting like that as a role model, the children grow up to be loud, violent creatures that only behave when they feel as if they are in a situation that calls for it. This is referred to as “behavioral issues” and is of course not considered to be due to the parents’ behavior at all. Often the neighborhood is blamed: “Johnny would be a good boy and wouldn’t have started using crack cocaine at age twelve if we had lived in a better neighborhood.” is a common excuse, usually given when the child has turned sixteen or seventeen and is facing criminal charges for murdering their own child “accidentally.”… Do not jeopardize your children by leaving them in the care of these  people. British nannies are not Mary Poppins.

Modern Slave Quarters


Whilst out looking for a flat (apartment) to spend some time in out of the rain in the south of jolly ol’ England, I ran across this. Not sure what they were thinking…not entirely entirely sure of what they were trying to sell. But the boat dock nearby started to take on a whole different connotation in my head. I wondered if I would hear the rustling of chains inside if I were to get close to one of the ships.




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