When challenged he says he left and evolved, created his own destiny in a better place.
Time to point out he seems to be on the downward arc of that amazing story of destiny?
Here's something for you to print out and put on the fridge for Christmas:
*Hailing originally from the bogs of Cleethorpes, JadedDH was not one to let this hold him back. He was tireless in his pursuit of middle-classness, working far into the night to improve accent, walk, taste in sweaters and nice cheese, and attitude towards toilet brushes. Little did he realise that true class comes from within. Looking around him with pompous self-congratulation, standing in his lovely be-cushioned home, arm around his presentable wife and his sparkling car in the drive, this dyed-in-the-wool scuzzer found that elegance, grace, and manners still eluded him. Every time he opened his mouth, the rude, sneering, narrow-minded views of his Cleethorpian Ole Mum would come out, to the disgust of his better-bred, kinder new family. Lack of intelligence too, as those stock phrases of the boorish, uneducated lump he still was came tumbling out. 'They're all the same' ' Everyone from x is y'. It was sad, but once the silk fell off this Cleethorpian sow's ear, they wanted him no longer. The arc of destiny started to fall. Perhaps unfairly. Cleethorpes being so much smaller than the Bradford conurbation, maybe he simply hadn't had the chance to learn the basics - that people are people, and differ the world over. However, they could no longer invest in something so deficient. The last anyone heard, he was rooting through the bins - but quite happily, as the bins didn't have a Bradford postcode. 'They're awl tha saaaame!' can sometimes still be heard on a quiet night, if you care to listen. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The moral of this story? Take a fucking look at yourself because you sound like an absolute idiot, Cleethorpes Man.