I was recently vilified for attacking Dartford and Dartfordians in my blog, 'DARTFORD: Only fatties hate the hot weather'. I am somewhat confused as to why so many readers became indignant at my observations but can only assume that I hit a few raw nerves. Then again, who really gives a local stuff?

I am a local, though I am not a Dartfordian. Unfortunately, I have to travel in and out of Dartford on a regular basis and have therefore observed the comings and goings of this tainted little market town. The town centre itself is tired and worn, as are the inhabitants. There is no getting away from that fact, in my opinion.

So why have I been victimised for stating this simple fact of life?

Don't you worry, I'm used to taking flak from just about everybody I write about - whatever the core subject matter. I've a very thick skin and can take the abuse, insults, death threats and castigation along with the hints as to my homelife, sexuality, financial situation and supposed hobbies.

But as a point of fact, Dartfordians take particular umbrage to my observations on life in Dartford.

Is it a case that Dartfordians are so proud of their town that they feel they must defend it, no matter what? Are they actually being serious when they defend the scum who frequent the town centre, park and dire pubs?

Why on earth do Temple Hillians, who live in possibly the worst 'suburb' of Dartford, insist on sticking up for that most dreadful part of downtown as they salvage the baccy from the already smoked roll-ups in the ashtray and wish they could afford a night out in the Fulwich Hotel followed by a saveloy and chips supper?

For goodness sake, get yourselves sorted out. Don't get angry at me - a local - for saying what YOU are too frightened to say.

Just for a change, why not agree with me and admit that the feral male youths, fat girls, unemployed scroungers, unmarried teenage mothers, prodigal fathers and winos who waste their lives dossing in Central Park, are a reality, not a figment of my fertile imagination?

Talking of fertile, the underage, nubile, wanton and painted-up nymphs of Dartford sure don't need any lessons in attracting the opposite sex, though they could perhaps do themselves a favour by attending Channel 4's Sex Education Roadshow, if my past observations are anything to go by.

My advice to Dartfordians who become angry after reading my highly amusing, informative and educational blog is this: don't get angry with me, get angry with your kids and your neighbours.

You know that having a pop at old Erastus is the easy option. I sometimes feel like an Aunt Sally - if you don't understand, Google it - but comfort myself in the knowledge that at least you are taking your ire out on me instead of some innocent bystander who might look at you in the 'wrong way'.

Ultimately, I am doing you all a service by giving you valuable advice and soaking up your hate and vitriolic detestation.

My being on News Shopper actually HELPS you. You might not like to think that, but it is entirely, utterly and incontrovertibly true.

Yes, I WILL be attending the upcoming Dartford Festival and I WILL write a blog on my findings. It will be a FAIR report of what I see and hear, no question about it.

If you are a decent, hardworking and respectable Dartfordian, why worry? I mean, one is innocent until proven guilty, isn't one?

Just like the identity card issue, if you have nothing to hide, why worry?

I know that you all click on the blog section in the hope that I have updated my blog and I don't blame you. You might hate me but you love to hate me, don't you?

In fact, you really NEED me, so let's have no more nonsense. There's a nice reader.

Erastus