Chavtowns

Come to sunny Eastwood, heart of England! There is plenty for you to do during your stay! It is very close to some of the other towns mentioned on this site, and is definitely of their ilk. See the articles posted on Selston, Alfreton and Somercotes to get the feel for this particular area of the East Midlands. The area used to be entirely devoted to coal mining, and the death of that industry has freed the local population to pursue other interests such as scraping back their hair until their skin ruptures, claiming unemployment benefit, and having children.

Eastwood’s population has a unique culture. It is almost entirely noctunal, which contributes to the distinctive waxy skin-tone of the locals. The local cuisine is in evidence everywhere. Whether in pools of chav-vomit, or the attractive packaging that literally litters the streets with it’s bright and fascinating cardboard hues.

Where to go during your stay? You are absolutely spoiled for choice. There are two main piazzas, one called the Hollies where the market shows up, and is situated between the Co-Op, Peacocks and “Cheapest Cigs and Booze in Town” (that is the shop’s actual name.) The Hollies is where the local motor sports take place. Why not go and watch as the most Kevved-up cars you have ever seen assemble, rev their engines and then drive down to the abandoned petrol station at high speed! This is about half a kilometre away on relatively straight road, which runs past the other main square, the paved bit outside the Library and the Wellington pub. As you wait for the bus to return you to the metropolis of Nottingham, have a look at the vivacious youngsters. If you can spot one of them actually going in to the library, you win a prize! This square is directly opposite the police station, a rather lovely Victorian affair. Sadly, as the police put one P.C. in there a month between 12 noon and 12:05 on a day with an ‘r’ in it, you may wish to use prayer as a more reliable method of crime detection and prevention. If you prefer another chav activity to sitting around shouting at passers-by or chav motor-racing, you could go to Coronation Park to shoot scag, or St. Mary’s churchyard to have sex with underage girls.

Despite being a very small town, Eastwood is well equipped with pubs and chippies. There are no fewer than 5 chippies on Nottingham Road. Visit the Nelson pub, and try to come out alive!

If you don’t want to eat out, there is plenty of local produce to keep you happy. Never mind that all the local butchers and greengrocers have closed, you have a wide choice between the Co-Op, Safeway or Iceland for your micro-chips and blue pop.

There are two must-see places during your stay. The first is M.F.N., Eastwood’s local nightclub. Originally an attractive pub by the canal called the Shipley Boat, M.F.N. was acquired by the drummer out of ‘Shawaddy-Waddy’, and is thus a showbiz mecca, filled with memorabilia from its owners glory days. As it is out in the country, M.F.N. stand for ‘Miles From Nowhere’. Don’t fret, the club is entirely self contained, and instead of going to a kebab-shop after your night out, why not buy you toxic burger while there! The experience of world music inside the club is only enhanced by the local colour of the queue for taxis afterwards. From fornication to fights and fountains of vomit, it is something to behold.

The other place is the D. H. Lawrence Birthplace Museum and Heritage Centre. This is an homage to the world-renowned author, who wrote telling descriptions of life in Eastwood in his novels, especially ‘Sons and Lovers’. The local council who run the museum are mystified as to why Lawrence never returned to Eastwood, preferring Tuscany, New Mexico and the Riviera, as does anyone who has never been to the town, or read one of his books. This heritage is the focus of Eastwood’s post-mining regeneration as a centre for commerce an tourism, enhanced by the only mildly dangerous ‘American Adventure’ theme park and the vast edifice of Ikea Nottingham, and which truly makes Eastwood a much better place to live in than the surrounding towns. You can imagine what a lovely part of the country this is. Look out for the signs from the M1, and try to resist the temptation to break the speed limit to get there.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 31st, 2004 at 11:08 am and is filed under ChavTowns. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

As a youngster, I remember the ex-mining town of Eastwood with fond memories. The birthplce of DH Lawrence and the local market as far as the eye could see with quality products….at affordable prices.

Around 8 years ago this picture started to become a distant dream. The market changed and Iceland and Farmfoods, had a fieldday offering the newly sprouted chavs of the area frozen products galore, at low, low prices. Endless news stories of poor unfortunate paperboys who’d had their bike twoked whilst ramming a nottingham evening post through the door of some raging chav became the norm. Almost everyday this tiny town was mentioned in the papers or on the news, my particular favourite was the hilarious changing of the road sign on the way to Eastwood town, sporting the words “welcome to brown town”, this front page coverage set the destruction ball a-rolling, for what was once a pretty, quaint little town.

This was the end for Eastwood, which was soon labelled proudly by outsiders and inhabitants alike as “brown town” due to the herion use, affecting more newborn babies than anywhere else in the entire country- and that’s a fact!

There are council estates aplenty, Prince’s Street being the fave, it’s like the Bronx of Eastwood, with boarded up windows, stinking of beirut-style chic. Most inhabitants fall into the same category, dole scum, or maybe old people. The’re all spongers though, if truth be told- i mean if they’re not getting a pension or the dole, then they’re all robbing the NHS.

Some residents can be seen in blacked out beemers, or those with a touch more class, top of the range mercs or audis. I don’t know why, but i suspect that they might be making ends meet by other means than just signing on- although i would never suggest that they have been selling uppers to kids of the locel comp out of the back of a dodgy ice-cream van, that would simply be out of order to suggest!

Luckily, the Safeway on Derby road provides a great meeting point, where the chavs and chavettes (dripping in Elizabeth Duke specials) can stock up on savers meat slices and bargains from the bakery five minutes before closing time.

The carpark provides a lovely circuit for the 17-24 year olds, where they can show off their monsterous spoilers and UV lights. Usually this takes place after 9pm, as the forgiving lighting means that the clear crow-bar marks in the drivers door cannot be so easily spotted, from the breaking and entering that was required to stal it from its previous last owner. There is often a bevvy of “beauties” accompanying the cap-wearing acne-ridden males. In Eastwood, the younger the better is their motto, with barely-legal girls joining the throng dolled up to the nines in lyca goods, orange foundation and the obligatory creoles. Sometimes a haze hangs over the carpark from the clouds of smoke (of the post coital ciggies), and from the heady scent of replica tommy girl perfumes, and CKone that any chav worth his/her salt, would not leave the house without!

Naturally, loud music is the order of the day, whether in the carpark, pulling 360’s or simply cruising the streets. Mario Winan can be heard inside most houses as the chavwagons are passing, as well as 2pac and DRE, even when it is raining and the windows cannot be rolled down for maximum impact. Not even Eastenders on a reasonable volume can quell it!

As for public houses, Eastwood has more than you can shake a stick at, however, The Man in Space, at Hilltop has transformed from a decent establishment to a chavs mecca. After the closing of the Lord Nelson things have never been the same, the inebriated fights over baby Chelsea or who’s been knobbing who, have had to relocate to places such as the Old Wine Vaults or The Sun or the aforemention MIS.

I love Eastwood, it makes even the most working class person feel almost posh!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 11th, 2004 at 5:46 pm and is filed under ChavTowns. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.