As the signs say as you enter “Queen of the Moorlands”
As those in the know say as they enter “Lock you windows and don’t make eye contact, you know i love you very much don’t you”
Leek is in the unfortunate situation of not only being a typical chav breeding ground, but a total s**t hole as well.
As you wander the dog s**t covered streets, dodging the festering blood and vomit from the previous nights chavtivity its hard to believe anyone would voluntarily live in such a place. It must be the only place in the world where they have an abundance of people wishing to take the high paid danger jobs in Iraq. (mine sweeping and the like)
Those who don’t seek such jobs spend their days on the checkout at Aldi or working in the delightful Kerrigold cheese factory. The most ambition ever seen in the town made the front page of the Leek Post and Times when one 15 year old mother of 17 made a passing comment about maybee working on the deli counter at Morrisons one day.
The chavs in Leek are extreme examples to say the least, yet rather scarily Leek has yet to get its own Mc Donalds (Even they aren’t that stupid) With no maccas the hang out for the chav population seems to be other peoples cars as they joy ride around the hills before having a lovely BBQ. You may jest but in the last 18 or so months there have been at least 3 cars a week taken and burned out by a group of teenagers that the police say ‘they know’ but have yet to catch in the act or get any evidence against. All i can say is how?
When the chavs are not TWOCing cars they are beating old ladies nearly to death or hiding from the growing number of town vigilantes taking it upon themselves (rather understandably) to do the police’s job for them.
It is however the night when the chavs really come alive because though Leek doesn’t have much, one thing it does have is an abundance of pubs. Leek has around 50 pubs which for a total population of 20 000 is a hell of a lot, in fact it has one pub for every 400 residents including the underage ones (underage being about 9 in Leek), but i suppose when there is nothing to do but drown your sorrows and try to forget what a sewer you live in, the out of town brewerys are bound to try and capitalise.
Early on the teenage mothers bring out their faux gold wearing, foul mouthed little rugrats to get them tanked up on WKD so they will go to sleep and can be taken and left at home alone while mummy goes out to spread the clap. The early bird chavs take it upon themselves to teach these toddlers to tell passers by to “go and finger f**k themselves” comedy that has even their ‘mum’ in fits of laughter. After dropping the kids off mum returns to get as pissed as is humanly possible before luring in this months ‘dad’ who she can use to look after the kids when she is too hung over to get out of bed.
As the night progresses the fighting swearing and vandalism rises with the police flapping about only serving to make the problem worse until an innocent passer by, robbed of his shoes, wallet, phone and dignity utters an obscenity when dispondantly describing his current situation aimed at no one but himself and is promptly arrested for breach of the peace.
10:50pm it is time for the police to have a tea break whilst the pubs kick out and the streets kick off. Hair, nails, baseball caps and kebabs fly to a back drop of the crazy frog ring tone as everyone rings around their mates to allert them to the current action.
Then it is off home via the graveyard to smash up some headstones or to the local nightclub Metropolis or ‘Trops’ as it is better known for more fun.
On entering Metropolis some 13 year old girl is being gang f**ked over a table by a chav procession each using his baseball cap to cover his expectant woody. Her mum stands by tearfully happy that her daughter is now becoming a woman.
And so the swearing and brawling continue till closing time when the streets errupt again. The police sleep soundly in their beds as a riot ensues. What cars haven’t been moved to an out of town refuge are subjected to scratching, smashing, clambering over, pissing on and a good old bit of sex before if they are lucky, torched.
As the chavs dissapate the residents sit huddled in bed whilst their armoured shutters are rattled, spray painted and pissed against and chav ‘men’ try to get their dick through their boarded up letter boxes.
Finally it is over by about 6am. 7am the first of the town folk slip out of houses to survey the damage, not that they intend to fix it as it will all happen again tomorrow. Lovely.