The word 'Shirley' used to mean 'bright glade'. It doesn't, anymore. Five roads there are that lead away from town, five roads like the snatching fingers of those skellingtons in Jason & The Argonauts. The A33 skirts the city timidly until it spies the New Forest and makes a break for it; The Avenue heads confidently through the centre, past the Common, away towards Chandler's Ford, Chilworth and freedom; Onslow Road becomes Bevois Valley becomes Portswood High Street, changing its name more often than Cheryl bloody Cole until it hits Eastleigh; Bitterne Road West scuttles grimly into darkest Midanbury; and Shirley High Street is where the monsters live. Nicknamed 'the mutant mile' by many Southampton residents, the inbred, cannibalistic hillbillies that live in and around Shirley fear the bright light of the sun, but scamper bleakly to prey on visitors to their blasted shores. It's not nice there. Kind of like Lewisham, if Lewisham was attacked by chemical weapons and then really let itself go.