Chavtowns

Me and my girlfriend moved to Birmingham about 6 months ago after I finished my Degree in Stoke University. I have to admit, little research was done on my part regarding nice places to live and we just went for somewhere near town that was relatively cheap. BIG MISTAKE!

The day we moved in we witnessed 2 cars swapping bags through the windows, something told me they weren’t gummy bears. This was in broad daylight, people just stood around on the street, they all knew what was going on. Only when we moved in were we told that Winson Green prison was within walking distance from the house, just around the corner in fact! Oh joy!

Walking around the street was a no-no pretty much any time of day or night, no matter if it was lunch time or midnight there was always some skinny crack filled creature lurking around outside their house talking about how they are pissed off with “Jamal, cos he aint got me no weed this week”. We were the only white couple in the street, which is no problem for me personally but it did seem to be for everyone else, any time I walked past a group of guys I would either be stared at, “oi’ed” at or sometimes followed. My girlfriend, being the sexy, busty blonde that she is could not walk down the street without being asked if “they’d met before”, constant car horn beeps and the most filthy old men trying to persuade her to relieve them of their sexual desires.

Cars used to drive along the speed bump stricken road at 50mph, always some boy racer or some drug user trying to make a hasty getaway as the police rolled past checking for transactions. Not long before we decided to leave, a speeding car somehow managed to lose control, drive into the front of a house and flip upside down into the centre of the street. The driver was killed and the entire front of the house destroyed. The night was filled with police skid testing, youngsters playing with broken house pieces etc. Funnily enough all of the usual street dwellers had scrurried away into their houses.

In the 5/6 months I lived there I remember seeing about 20 different incidents of drug dealing. Either outside of a house or 2 cars parked alongside each other. One night after returning from a trip to Star City I literally had to wait for 2 guys to exchange drugs and money as they were blocking both lanes of the road.

*** Section removed about a Letting agent in Winson Green for Legal Reasons. You know who you are. I have removed the comments about your company at the request of the author. I was happy to let you be named and shamed – Chavtowns Webmaster (abuse@chavtowns.co.uk) ***

Anyway, Winson Green is major turd. Steer well clear unless you like the attention of dirty old men trying to penetrate you, you have a crack addiction or enjoy the odd near death driving experience.

Derived from its medieval name “soily hill”, it is clear the irony is not lost on many of the residents due to the amount of scum and dirt around the place.

I grew up in Soli-hell Solihull and have seen the drastic devolution of its culture, atmosphere and quaint charm.

From the time the Burberry tracksuited monster that is Birmingham began engulfing Solihull there was only going to be one winner.

I have many fond memories of the area from my childhood; farmers markets, a quiet pedestrianised street, even feeding the ducks and wildlife in Bruton and Malvern parks but now…

…the only wildlife in the area is attempting to balance a nike baseball cap on its chavvy little head, stained tracksuit bottoms halfway down its arse, sitting on (and at the same time vandalising) every possible bench in the high street, depriving the elderly of a resting place while queen chavette attempts to “blag” a pasty from the staple food outlet that is Greggs for little baby Eminem.

Not a single day goes by where the once quiet town centre isn’t packed to the rafters with louts and layabouts either thieving or sitting outside weatherspoons hurling abuse at any unsuspecting passer by.

The nights however…oh you’ll love the evenings (if you like unhinged, unreserved and unnecessary violence).  whenever I venture into Solihull in the evening I have taken to taking a torch with me, not because its dark mind, just to see the confused look on a young chav’s face when, fag in mouth, he asks for a light. Is there any more beautiful sight than the expression on a young chav’s face who is so confused and so unaware of the fact he has had the piss severely taken that his head may explode?

Like the rest we too have our fare share of Mc Lovin it, the inevitable 5 Greggs per square metre and the explosion of “everything you will never need but will buy because you are a stupid cheap chav and it’s a pound” shops

So, come to Solihull if you fancy picking up your teeth with a broken arm whilst being spat at and never actually managing to have a decent night out because there’s only so many times you can sit next to chav family living it up, in their Sunday best (by which I mean their black tracksuits and white t-shirt) having a “posh” meal at nando’s claiming “oh it feels like we’z in mawbaya init”

Being educated and living in Solihull can make you feel like an eagle amongst weasels but sadly…

Eagles fly high but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines

Having frequented many of the finest Chav hotspots in the West Midlands i’m sure there can nowhere in the country that comes close to the level of Chavness the West Midlands has to offer.

In the East of the region there is a city so chavy the name was devised fully expecting an impending influx of scum. This can be no other inbred hellhole than Chaventry. In the 2 years I spent in this deprived shit box I never once spotted anyone under the age of 18 without a Burberry cap and NBA basketball vest. The ring-road road signs contain an A-Z of chav towns while constantly directing you around the road to hell. Leaving this place is near impossible, a reason why the locals manage to have no idea of any life outside the dump. The highest concentration of chav’s in the known universe can be found in the Skydome area, a venue so densly populated with white cider drinking louts and lambrini drinking chavette’s it should be an NHS walk-in unit. But the existence of the only saving grace in this cesspit – The National Motor Museum – the only collection of cars within 20miles that isn’t purely Citroen Saxo’s and Corsa’s saves this from being no.1 on the West Midlands chav list.

A town fast rising up the on the chavdar is Stourbridge. Once the envy of Dudley, Halesowen and Black Country residents this place is now the weekend haunt of anyone with £1.60 for the bus fare but not the £3 trainfare into Birmingham. Exclusive venues like the Lloyds No1, Que Pasa and the jewel in the crown Chicago’s will be more than willing to take extortionate amounts of money off you in exchange for lager or plutonium coloured alcopop’s. But beware, anyone not drinking Stella will be immediately glassed by some footballer’s jumper wearing try-hard and then kicked around the floor via his Rockport’s for being ‘a gayer’. Even Paris Hilton couldn’t enjoy a night here.

Broad Street, Birmingham is THE place for chavs to visit for a night out. A small nuclear device on a Saturday night encompassing Lloyd’s N01 (officially the chavest bar in the city) Walkabout (kid chav heaven) Reflex (single mom central) and The Riza, is the only hope for this one great area. Bringing the creme-de-la-creme of chavs together from as far afield as Northfield, Longbridge, Yardley Wood, Erdington and Stechford (all worthy of an individual paragraph) this is truly the hotspot for the scum of Birmingham. Chav’s on the prowl hanging out car windows as they crawl up the road; chav’s in jumpers and white trainers throwing up copious amounts of Magners at 3am; chav’s fighting with bouncers, police and taxi wardens; chav’s spilling burrito down their Henleys t-shirt; chav’s arguing with their beer fueled mates; chavette’s passed out on the pavement with their lady garden’s on show; chav’s only coming out after getting completely slaughtered at home on QC Sherry; chav’s racially abusing taxi drivers, yes, Broad Street has it all! Come along and see for yourself, or maybe not.

Dudley – The land that time forgot. This place contains the worst 2 tourist attractions in the country, more chav villages than Liverpool (been there too, its woeful) and an out of town shopping centre that broke the mould for cruising levels and fast food venues. The castle – completed in 1530 is one of the more modern buildings in the town and had the unfortunate position of overlooking the entire centre. The Wren’s Nest estate or the Renner, Pensnett, Gornal, Netherton, Brockmoor and Tividale are particular lowlights and should be avoided on foot at all costs. The chav-ratio in these areas is unbelievably high and they can generally be found loitering around the local corner shop or chaving it up on a mini motorbike on the local park. Unfortunately the adult population of Dudley doesn’t help the situation, the Love and Hate knuckled single mothers build up their kids expectations so high by showing them the unachievable delights of Poundland and promising them a day out at the Zoo their only option is a life of fake designer chavwear, Blue WKD and crime. If you do end up in Dudley and want to escape the hum drum life of the chavpit, unlucky, it’s impossible. This is surely the chav capital of the West Midlands, which is in turn the Chav capital of the UK.