THE Vulcan thundering ovehead signalled the end of the airshow. Amen. It was all over for another year.
Scrap it. It’s a shameful, chav fest.
Touted as the council’s biggest event, the reality of it all is it’s just a hideous spectacle of chavs, pushing buggies along the seafront, swilling Foster’s down their neck and fouling the place with their detritus.
Twenty three years of this. It’s past its sell-by date. I pity the people who live there and suffer a living hell for three days.
They say it helped boost the city’s economy by a whopping £12million, but how much does it cost residents, ratepayers and how much is lost by Wearsiders who disappear to escape it all?
There’s plenty like a Seaburn couple I met last year at Greta Bridge who had just fled their home. They couldn’t stand it. The airshow is jaded and it is high time we looked for something else.
While it’s good that it’s free, surely we should be attracting something that’s a little bit more inspiring, tasteful, classier?
Something that would hold no appeal for the chavs who flock there to foul the streets with their cartons, cans and vomit.
For those living there so many have reached the end of their tether.
One Echo reader who had to suffer fighting gangs of chavs going at it long into the night summed it up perfectly: “We are at the end of our tolerance level.
“I shall withold the cost of cleaning up the gardens from the council tax bill and see if that gets their attention after this shameful weekend of hell.”
I felt sick at the sights I saw gross women, foul-mothed, swearing at their kids, trailing gigantic cuddly toys bigger than themselves. Equally gross men, equally foul-mouthed.
Yes, there’s decent folk there, but the chavs outnumber them. As one Roker resident said: “They should be prevented from breeding. Garage door blocked in by white Fiesta, lager cans on window sill and others chucked over the yard wall.
“The back lane is a virtual open sewer with urine, discarded disposable nappies and other detritus littering it. Oh yes, we love the airshow and if we are looking to save money I suggest this is top of the list.”
And another commented on the Echo website: “I was out and about last night after seven, and there was still little pockets of scum, drunk out of their minds, fighting, no shirts on, swearing and drinking.”
And yet another: “Although I don’t live that side of the water, the airshow is full of horrible toothless, smoking, smelly, chavs who like owt for nowt and enjoy swearing at their chimney-sweep looking kids and carrying a bag full of cans of Foster’s.
“If they’re fit to go to the airshow, I think they’re fit to work. How about DWP having a patrol down there.”
So a million watched it. Who knows? And how many didn’t bother going this year because there were no Red Arrows, no Harrier, no Chinooks, no Typhoon?
The best airshow was the one that was fogged off. I don’t live anywhere near, but for those who do, like this reader, she has every reason to share my views: “This area is fine until the dross is inflicted upon us at the end of July every year.
“The filth and common scum that this event attracts is horrendous. Why should my kids be scared in their own home of the awful racket from the ugly planes, shouting drunks, fireworks? Can only hope for fog, rain and gale-force winds next year.”
How so many of us loathe it all.