Grim, windswept town in the highlands of Lancashire. Think Leicester with hills. If you're looking for flat caps, pigeon racing and dark, Satanic mills, then you're going to be sorely disappointed. Blackburn is now a multi-racial dustbin and you're more likely to be woken by the Muezzin's call to prayer than by Speckled Jim cooing on your windowsill. By 'eck it's grim: grimmer than a grim thing that's been told it's doing stag for another twelve hours in the cold and wet... not unlike Blackburn really. Blackburn is famous for one thing and one thing only: Blackburn Rovers. That's it. Go there at ee peril zur!
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