A place full of in-bred, piggy-eyed, adidas-wearing, chavish oiks and their orange-faced breeding partners, who all live on a diet of Iceland budget sausages and Sunny D, with their feral offspring running around making the place look like something that would scare the shyte out of Tolkien and Charles Dickens.
Although not a garrison town in the mould of Aldershot, Osnabruck or Chatham, its female denizens have a reputation to rival their garrison counterparts. The town has the unique distinction of having the highest AIDS/HIV and teenage pregnancy rates in the country. This is a remarkable achievement in light of the fact that many of the local 'talent' have the same characteristics, physique and vocabulary of Vicky Pollard.
There are several prison establishments in the area, one of which is responsible for training prison staff in riot control techniques. At the end of these courses it is tradition for course members, (many of whom are ex-forces or ex-miners and not easily fazed or scared), to complete their training by visiting many of the hostelries of Doncaster on their last evening.
Veterans of this hardening process have distinguishing characteristics such as the thousand yard stare and other symptoms similar to PTSD. Those displaying the severest symptoms appear to be those who were naive enough to remain sober during the ordeal.
Let's face it, if you built a wall round the pit villages of South Yorkshire and gassed the inhabitants like badgers then the gene pool would improve and the crime rate would drop to near zero. Doncaster? You have been warned!