ChavTowns

Wednesbury

Wednesbury - what can only be called a chav infestation

Often acknowledged as one of the most poor and rancid areas in the country, the West Midlands, like all other deprived areas, is a hotbed for that ever expanding breed known as chavs. Nestled in the middle of this county, forsaken by decent society (once part of Staffordshire until they got sick of it and chucked them out) lies the old mining town of Wednesbury (wenzbry if you’re a chav). Few of ever heard it and few would want to. Once a home to the affluent business owners who gained riches from it’s plentiful coal supply, the closure of the mines (it’s primary source of income) made Wednesbury nothing more than an over spill for Birmingham, declared by the government as one of the top five most deprived areas in the country. Made up of several estates, Wednesbury is home to the single teen moms, drug addicts and petty criminals spawned by pathetic, jobless scrots who got off their lazy, fat arses long enough to procreate a brood of mini mes the size of which would make a catholic proud.

The majority of the infestation occurs in the estate of Friar Park, once farm land until a few unruly pikeys decided to settle - therefore creating a hive of chavs (or townies as they were known)which has spread at such an alarming rate, it can only be described as a virus. Controlled by three ruling families (of which EVERY resident of Friar Park belongs to at least one whether directly or by proxy Friar Park is like a bad episode of The Sopranos. With their own code of conduct, Friar Parkers live in their own deluded, chavaliscious bubble rarely venturing out of this safe haven for scutters. In an estate where rule number one is ‘don’t nick off your own - they ain’t got owt’ and carrying Netto bag is ‘a badge of honour’ (That isn’t a lie - it was in an article in the local rag Express and Star - number one for chav gossip), there isn’t much hope for the poor little shits born into it. Whether it’s Wodensborough C.T.C or Manor High, the only qualification the chavlings can expect is an ASBO (or an E grade in woodwork if they’re lucky)

We are daily bombarded by images of poor African families on Oxfam adverts, eager to lift themselves out of poverty yet the chavs of Friar Park are quite happy to stay exactly as they are. Their self proclaimed anthem, set to Prodigy’s ‘Firestarter’ is ‘I’m a Friar Parker, a scruffy Friar Parker’ - I think this speaks for itself. Wednesbury is a place where the uniform is trackies tucked into Winnie the Pooh socks, purchased from West Bromwich indoor market and Argos bought/stolen jewellery, where the average age of chav grandparent hood is 32, where aging chavs congregate at local watering hole The Cabin in their legging and slippers, where every week the post office is packed by rioting chavs, all jostling to try and get to the front of the queue to cash their giros so they can go ‘up Ethel Austins and Peacocks and get little Harmony and Kieran new gear’.

Now to come to Wednesbury’s ‘nightlife’. For the under age chavs, the fall of evening means heading to the park to get tanked up on whatever the elected chav has managed to steal from the local offie (usually paint stripper vodka or some form of cider). Then, if it’s a special night, it means a trip to Wetherspoon’s where the average age of customers is 14. Full to the brim of teens wearing their best Bladidas (fake adidas), all crowding the bar demanding ‘blue wickeds’ and cider and black, Wetherspoons has become the new hang out for the exiled Patrick goers who were cast out into the cold after the closure of Wednesbury’s one and only nightclub (although I use that word loosely). And of course it wouldn’t be a proper night out without a leisurely joyride round the estate in a stolen Nova, 50 Cent blasting out of the speakers.

Choose life. Choose your giro. Choose having 6 kids by the age of 20. Choose Tv’s, stereos, Dvd players (all carefully robbed from Curry’s). Choose poor health, smoking 40 a day from the age of 10, drinking shite cider and black. Choose a council flat. Choose Sport‘s World. Choose fake sovereigns that turn your finger green. Choose wagging school to go to get pissed down the ‘dockey’ . Choose losing your virginity age 12 on the field at the back of the canal. Choose beating the shit out kids from Menzies High School and getting bundled in the back of police riot vans. Choose wedding receptions held at the Legion. Choose appearing on Jeremy Kyle for a paternity test and saying ‘At the end of the day, right’ 20 times a minute. Choose Friar Park.

Northampton: come one, come all and suck us dry

Northampton is a shining example of rapid post war expansion gone wrong. I'm certain the planners of the day were doing their best but it seems like the 'ton was a Friday afternoon rush job. after spraying the town centre with concrete they then saw fit to build a shanty town encircling the main arena. This explosion of rat run housing in the 1960's and 70's attracted scum from near and far which in turn led to the invasion of the town centre. I still remember the "riot" in the Grosvenor Centre (Shopping centre) in 1989 which really only involved 50 or so 'townies' as they were then called, running though the crowd punchng people and stealing bags. Some places have cheese rolling and burning barrels of straw, we have strip-mugging.

Tamerton Foliot, quant village in Plymouth with a growing problem

Tamerton Foliot is a small village near two of the chaviest areas in Plymouth; Southway and Whitleigh. Unfortunatetly as the infestation grows around it, it has started growing into it. I have lived there for about 7 to 8 years, and i remember the days when i used to be able to walk up to the school for scouts (about an 8 minute walk) without a worry in the world. A couple of waves here and there from those you knew. There is also a lovely annual carnival.

Though today chavs have bred and thrived within it. When i attempt to walk to the school, or near it, they are everywhere. First there are three pubs in close proximity and there is usually a couple of young pale faced puffter chavs attempting to get alcohol and if it is match day there are loud abusive chants. Next is the post office. A couple of these skinny ones are outside waiting for the 16 year old mate to get them some fags. Inside chavettes flock the magazines and sweets, stealing anything possible. Also they tend to eye up and giggle anything on legs that enters (even to the extent of following you on your daily business when you clearly ignore them). The staff are dimwitted but normal citizens. Unfortunately this is a recipe for disaster with the chavs.

Shop assistant: 'Thats ur'
Chav: 'Whut Lloyd? No I aint fockin gettin you any fags'
Shop assistant: 'one pound eighty-three pence'
Chav: 'A'ight bay'
(hands over cash walks out)

Now quite often they under pay or over pay due to lack of intelligence, then come back an hour later complaining about the money. The shop assistant didnt take any notice and argues back. Thus ending with a banned chav that now waits outside for his mates to buy his stuff. Consequently the shop is now more menacing to walk by...

Having passed chavy gimps on bicycles or the ones outside the chinese, avoiding glances before the big groups of 20 + decide you are threatening them, you get to the school. On the roof, in the field or on the playground they are playing, screwing, scrapping or abusing themselves with drugs. Then during all the parts of the scout group evening (beavers 6-8 years, cubs 8-10, scouts 10-14) they are sad enough to press their faces against the glass and watch. About 2 hours later they might rip their face off of it and shout a few rude words or make abusive gestures. Two minutes later they go off to a park where they screw chavettes or each other.

Though one nice thing thats happened is the police rounds. Now there are 2 policewoman and a policeman that walk about Tamerton, splitting up the crews, stopping the assualts and fining the lads that are buying fags or alcohol. So maybe one day they might back off, or surely they will just keep growing like in keyham or north prospect.

Sheiks, Bognor Regis..... It's on a pier you know.

This has to be one of the worst places to be.

People familiar with Bognor will know about the nightclub on the pier called Sheiks. Well they have now changed this to Visions but no-one took any notice!
Firstly it is the only club in the UK where the toilets are outside accross what can only be described as some sort of veranda... and the toilets themselves just large versions of portaloo's!

As if this wasn't bad enough you will undoubtedly bump into numerous cap wearing, elizabeth duke bling, burberry sporting, shaven headed pond life.... not to mention the odd Polish clan.
They will promptly ask you "please kind sir do you have a lighter by chance, or perhaps a spare cigarette about your person" if your answer is negative in any way you will receive a reply which sounds as appealing as scratching one's nails down a chalkboard.

In short, everyone looks slightly inbred and if you were to touch them i imagine they are sticky and smell of lynx africa....

Sheiks in Bognor Regis.... Not the 8th wonder of the world.

High Wycombe - a Londoner's perspective

due to the lack of funds to holiday somewhere exotic like indonesia or comoros, i recently got myself a zone 1-6D travelcard and a few bus/rail tickets to tour the area west of london.

it started off great. slough has the most spendiferous selection of hot chicks. gangs of cute chinese girls, the most awesome-looking filipinas, gorgeous indian girls everywhere, with the non-asian girls equally ravishing.
continuing through scenic towns like henley-on-thames, then heading northwards towards amersham, i thought i was in for a lovely quiet journey through green landscapes and pretty little villages.

then, at the top of the hill just before high wycombe a tall, skinny, druggie-looking chav complete with prototype mannerisms and chavalicious fashion sense entered the bus, greeting the ageing driver with a loud but friendly "safe boss". he continued to harrass the driver with helpful statements such as "come ON, buddy!", "get on with it bruv". i'm not quite sure why this unemployed loafer was in such a hurry, but the driver took no notice of him.

to my surprise the whole place, and it's a pretty hideous-looking place too, was completely infested with these kevs, whether it be the tall skinny druggie variety or the short, neat, slimy-looking ones with chav attitude to match even the most ridiculous essex lads.
what makes high wycombe a chav capital with a difference is the fact that it has retained some of that good ole thing called "ragga".
i saw man-o-man walking the streets in a late 80s stylee, as spotted in lewisham 1989, and there were indications of high wycombe moving up the mixed-race ranking list too. the place may not yet be approaching mixed-race capitals like shottingham or croydon, but it's already there, in SPIRIT.
the white dudes walking around the place reminded me very much of your stereotypical bus-jacking, house-theiving mixed-race skunk dealer found in ladbroke grove during the mid-90s.

so what's stopping high wycombe from being at the very pinnacle of chavdom? well.. please correct me if i'm wrong, but the high wycombe LADIES still have some way to go before they reach the 13-year-old pram-pushing status of the loud, crazy and totally out-of-control chavettes hanging around the run-down pikey shithole that is Tilbury.

Malvern

Well dear readers, AT LAST a page i can blog my deepest despair of chavs!
Malvern, Worcestershire
The beautiful ancient hills are subdued by the masses of chavs descending upon our town, creating grey skies and murmours of inexplicable language that I have to suffer. Each time I leave my house clusters of these chavs are at every street corner. They serve no one except themselves, are profoundly rude, ridiculously dressed, produce more children than the national average and at the tax payers expense, disregard public property, bully in large groups and lower the value of life. I cannot believe humans have evolved to include this disturbing new species. innit

Macclesfield

Before I slag Macc (as it's known to the locals)let me add the plus points. beautiful countryside, good enough shops, mostly (daytime)friendly people.
But then nightime appears and Macclesfield turns into a town from the twilight zone. As a lass born and bred in Stockport (yeah, yeah I know, blame my parents)this place is odd. I have worked with the yoofs of Macclesfield and am therefore allowed to comment. Majority of the kids are good, bit fucked up, but all in all there is hope.
I think the closure of Parkside loony bin (no offence to loonies) contributed big time. I remember driving all the way to Macclesfield from Stockport just to ogle said lunatic asylum. Those were the days.
They are wannabe chavs, but doing a crap job of it. They have the obligatory Manc accent, rough council estates (yeah, whatever) and poverty. Unless you happen to have a good social worker.
Have a glance at how estate agents sell Macclesfield and how they lie. Part of the job I guess.
Back to the loonies, lost the thread for a mo.
They have been released back into the community, oh bugger! And drugs were added. And then they bred! Oh shit.
Maybe it's time I moved further afield.
But the bit I love best about Macclesfield is that we are so close to all the A-list footballers, Wayne Rooney etc. And they haven't a clue about what's just up the road from their safe little havens.
Can Macclesfield please be added to Chav Towns, we do have a JJB and an Argos. Ok it's not as hardcore as Hanley but Saturday nights in Macc are great fun, and we also have a bus station. Not that I as a mature woman have tried my luck. Taxis work much better for me x

Kirkby in Ashfield

How can it be that this carbuncle on the arse of humanity as yet to reach dissy heights of a featured chav town. This place is the yardstick by which chavism is measured.

It has the lot, ticks all the boxes and then some. All of the chaviest shops are there sometimes in multiples. This place is the pussy head on a giant sore. Most of the locals are more blinged up than the bastard son of a unholy mating of Jimmy Saville and Mr T.

The women are so fat they have more chins than a chinese phone book and a belly that hangs over a day glo spandex creation. If a girl doesn't have two children by the time she's 16 she's forced to move to up market Huthwaite. I therefore commend to you readers that this place should qualify for the chav town hall of fame. If you don't know the place and fancy visiting drive through quickly, keep the doors locked and don't stop at the lights.

Newton Aycliffe

For no other reason than it is Newton Aycliffe. Popular CHAV haunts include ARGOS, GREEGS and anywhere near the DANDY CART pub. Its full of thick pigs, whose highlight of the week include getting on the number 15 and flocking in droves to BOYES dept store in Darlo and whipering outside M&S crying and wishing they could afford to shop there.

Dirty downtrodden dump of a town and has equal appeal to having a tumor

Bloody Shit Hole, that makes Spennymoor look glitzy!

Chavtastic Ladywood!

Despite being nextdoor to the third richest ward in Birmingham, Ladywood is a poor, drug filled and prostitute infested hell-hole situated close to the city centre. Let's start on the "west-side" of B16...

St. Vincent Street used to be a busy and cheerful little road which a green grocery, laundrette, mini-market, bakery and primary school. But now its a row off assorted greasy take-aways, off-lisence and a bookies. And as for the school, pfft, half the students speak little or no English. Then you have the gangs of "Yardee's" loittering on the corners, intimidating any caucasian person to walk by.

Moving on to the newer part of Ladywood. The new houses are an improvment, as is the Broadway Plaza complex. If only it wasn't filled with scummy little chavs screaming like loons and fighting like dogs. Watching a film in the cinema is an unpleasant expirience, with pop-corn flying around and teenagers schreeching. And Bowlplex is a whole new story, with its arcade packed to the brim with little chavettes jumping around, shaking their non-existance backsides on the dance mats, and boy-racer wannabes smashing up the racing games when the loose.

Moving around to my area now, you get the true chavs. With their mix-match goldplated jwellery and tacky fake tracksuits they really are a sight. Whether they are starting arguements with their elders or blasting out crappy music on their stolen mobiles, they annoy to the fullest extent. Most smoke weed regularly and are rarely seen with out a fag hanging out their mouths. The worst thing is that the white chavs thing they are black. They try to speak patwa in the most annoying way and even think they are going to get laid at any moment, resulting in them carrying condoms in their socks, and thats not just the boys.

Prostitutes roam the streets as soon as the clock strikes 10. After work they find their dealer and get their supply of bud, crack and other crap ready to shovel it into their rancid little bodies. And if they cant get their money off men, they beg for it on the streets using mad-cap excuses for borrowing money such as, "I need 3 quid for a daysaver to see my daughter in hospital 'cus shes got cancer and its my birthday and my mom died when I was 5, and I had to have a Ceaserian section and i live with my uncle". Yes, this was all said on ONE occasion.

Lastly you have the posh bit of Ladywood, where the worst thing you get it smashed up T.V's on every street corner. But on Ladywoods standards thats imaculate.

So, to save you some hassle, don't come to Ladyoowd unless you want to be plauged by trampy skets and peed off by mini-chavs.