Bugle

Bugle is named after a pub, which tells you roughly how much ambition the place was founded with. It sits in the middle of the china clay country, where the hills outside town are man-made spoil heaps that everyone politely calls scenery, and the tips have been there long enough that people miss them when one gets landscaped. The brass band is genuinely famous, the roads are genuinely narrow, and the two facts are related in ways nobody has ever bothered to explain. If you want a Cornwall that has never once tried to charm a tourist, this is the one.