The End.

Long Eaton in Derbyshire is pretty unpleasant to wander around, even on a nice sunny day.

*Thinks very hard*

Newark New Jersey gets my vote.

Harlington on flight path.

East Tilbury. If Wigan is the arse end then ET is the dung that passes through. It welcomes graffiti artists and shopping trolley dumpers as they improve the place.

For appearance I'd say Miles Platting in Manchester (where I was born... early lord one drizzly morn) or maybe Pillgwenlly by the docks in Newport but that's been redeveloped since I lived there and it's all dockland apartments and yuppies now or so I'm told. for attitude I'd have to say Swindon, can't stand the place, never could. Used to visit a friend there and just felt like topping myself the whole time

"I disagree. For sheer dilapidation and a feeling of hopelessness it has got to be Grimsby. Even the seagulls look suicidal." Mark and I were in Grimsby (or Cleethorpes, which is attached to it) at the weekend - as part of our ongoing ABCtales roadshow. I thought it was nice. I would've liked to have stayed and played some crazy golf. I nominate Rhyl, north Wales - my Nan and Grandad tried to run a guest house there. Not surprisingly, finding guests was a bit difficult.

Oh yes, Swindon. Tell me about it.

I second Rhyl. Grimsby's got a barge pub, which is cool.

I go for Swindon. I have memories of doing driving test round the magic roundabout and the day that Sunderland knocked them out of the first division. Made Sunderland suddenly attractive. Also Witney, Oxon. My cousin was the town policewoman, until she got fed up and moved to Swindon.

i had an uncle who died in swindon...that really put him off the place...

I'd forgotten Swindon. I had to run a course there for a week last year, and couldn't wait to get away. I can understand your uncles reaction to the place, Martin. By the middle of the week I was standing in front of the class thinking " Take me now Lord, take me now". [%sig%]

cleethorpes is unutterably dire...coming from someone who grew up in skegness, thats saying something. I third rhyl... i used to live in nearby village of towyn, which was bad enough, but rhyl was the absolute pits...everything was closing down at a rate of knots, inclusing my will to live. there was a massive prom i seem to recall. It was very empty.

Bangor. Wet, windy, desolate. All the way there, my dad cheerfully singing "Didn't we have a luvverly time, the day we went to Bangor" - a decidedly more colourful version on the way back. Even worse than Blackpool, which was so awful we took refuge in a theatre to see Cannon and Ball live... Yes, Bangor really was worse than that. As a sidebar, we used to sing "We're all going to the zoo tomorrow' on school and family trips - do children sing that anymore, or is it all songs about Santa getting wedged in a chimney or justin timberface nonsense?

So none of you have been to East Tilbury then? (He says dryly)

*Announces next ABC Tales event in East Tilbury*

I'd agree with Bangor, Andrew. I got deported from America from Bangor, or is that a different one? (You know the song, "Trailor for sale or rent ..... destiniation Bangor, Maine). However that would be my third choice. My second choice of a town that's the arse-end of the world would, of course, be Luton. It's even been voted the worst town in Britain, and coincidentally its football stadium has been voted the second worst. But the worst town in the world, at least for me, would have to be Ciudad Juarez in Mexico. El Paso, Texas, is a toilet. No, that’s being overly kind. It’s a turd. Even if a toilet does tend to stink a bit, at least it’s generally white and cleaned every now and again. El Paso is snuff coloured. There, that’s about as polite as I can get. It looks, and smells, as if the whole town is undegoing an unusually frequent evacuation of loose, watery waste matter from its bowels. I once crossed over the border from El Paso to Ciudad Juarez, and as we drove across the bridge the taxi driver pointed out “wetbacks” swimming across the Rio Grande with all their belongings strapped to their backs. There were whole families in search of better living conditions, a new life and the possibility of a green card. I could empathise with them as I, too, was an illegal immigrant at that time. Most of them would be caught and turned back, and have to try again the next day, but occasionally someone would make it, disappearing into a network set up fifty years earlier. They would find work easily enough and would commence setting up a life for themselves, hoping beyond hope that their family would also find a way across someday. If they did the tragedy would continue, for their daughters would soon start selling their fluffy, fuzzy vaginas to travelling salesmen and their sons would leave the El Paso area and head for Los Angeles, where they'd join a gang and start selling drugs, taking violence and strong-arm tactics to the extreme in their chosen profession. Many of them would die in jail, either through violence or drug abuse. If El Paso is a turd, then Ciudad Juarez is the place that turds go when they’ve been flushed down the bog. You might not be aware of this but the drains from your house don’t go straight out to the public sewer system. First of all they go through Ciudad Juarez. What a cesspool. No wonder the poor sods are all trying to escape.

I'm astonished no one has mentioned one of the modern world's most oft-repeated jokes: guy 1: I met a great girl from Maine. guy 2: Bangor? guy3: Nah, just met her yesterday. badda boom I remember being in the so-called international airport in Bangor, Maine about 3am on a charter flight back to the US from London in 1971. What a nightmare. They had to land there for the sole purpose of going through customs because there were no facilities for charter flights at JFK at the time. This was after being delayed at take-off by 5 hours for some unknown reason. The industry abandoned transatlantic charters after that summer. Anyway, I didn't see any of the city, but I do vividly recall the inside of this large hanger (in Bangor) and a couple hundred sleep-deprived low-budget tourists lined up to be abused by customs officials at 3am.

Fluffy, fuzzy vaginas? Somebody please shoot karl and put us all out of our misery.

If Wiggy was a town he would be a tacky old seaside place where everyone dresses in big fake tits and afro wigs. He would be full of hoardings offering alternately sleazy sex shows with fuzzy vaginas and cliched sentimental family movies. But Wigtown would make people appreciate Luton.

Then there's always the old: girlfriend: I've decided we can take our relationship a step further. I want you to kiss me where it smells boyfriend: I'll never make it to Port Talbot before rush hour!

Slough. Even before The Office, this was always the greyest, grimiest place on earth. Recently, there was a children's competition to draw a picture of Slough, to re-market the place. My daughter sat staring at the paper with a grey pencil in her hand, then sighed and ran off to play. I get gloomy if I have to go anywhere near - I think depression leaks into the air there like mustard gas.......

How about airports that are at the arse end of the world? James would vote for Bangor, and up 'till a few months ago I'd have said Mexico City takes some beating, but I'd definitely go for Nairobi now. It's certainly the most corrupt. Well probably not the MOST corrupt, but VERY corrupt at least.

at least slough smells of chocolate! cant be too bad eh? Cardiff train station regularly smells of yeast and hops from the Brains brewery next door (lovely daffodil painted on the tower but the smell could make people sick while waiting for trains). It's like a very herby fart that you can't escape.

My vote is for Newark International.

Poor Daisy is this week doing a tour of the UK for work, which involves staying the night in Port Talbot, Rotherham and Redcar.