To an outsider, the presumption of North London is of a good life involving rows upon rows of beautiful semi detached houses complimented by two or three brand new company cars on the drive with the occupants of the 1930′s properties all working hard for a living down the City of London. Sadly that’s just what it is,a presumption, when you talk about the dreary dump that is Palmers Green.

Situated between two shitholes (One being Enfield Town and the other being Wood Green), Palmers Green has gradually become a blot on the landscape. For an unknown reason, the whole of the mediterranean community in Britain has decided to make this little commuter town its home(And therefore Palmers Green turns logically to Palmers Greek!). Rows upon rows of multi colured Greengrocers, 24hr opening kebab shops, Cheapo jewellers (who give Elizabeth Duke a run for their money) and acropolis impersinating hairdressers attract, along with the usual chav magnets such as McDonalds, KFC, Burger King and the infamous The Fox Pub(5 murders in three years is a record even Baghdad would be proud of!), attracts all the down trodden chav skum living in Harringey, Tottenham, Edmonton and Sothgate to my little town and infest it with their local lingo (Dialect includes ‘Blad’, ‘My Bredrin’, ‘Do you want beef?’ (I prefer a ham sandwich with mayo really) and ‘Wots Guanin’) which us many human Palmers Green residents still strugle to understand. As well as their alien language, these sub-human characters also like to bring their quirky dress sense to the town which even Vivien Westward would be most proud of. With the ‘boys’ wearing their baseball caps at angles which defy even gravity, they fit snugly under their essential hooded tops. Underneath is the sleveless basketball top showing off their ‘muscles’ and the drop down jeans which also fit snugly but around their ankles this time and not around their waist which is the main purpose of the jean garment. But forgive these poor beings as they go to school at such highly academic institutes like Barnet College, Southgate College and Chase Community…they cant help being as thick as pig shit! By reading the description of the chav girl in many other articles on here i would waste my time describing the typical ‘Palmers Green Totty’ because they all sound the same (All ugly slags). Because of all this, spotting a relatively normal looking person down Green Lanes is becoming a bit of a mission and a game can even be made out of it (Fun for all the family but make sure you dont get mugged by them!)!

Liking any other type of music or lifestyle round here parts that these characters dont agree with can get you into some serious bother as many have had the pleasure of finding out (Being stabbed, shot or even murdered is a pleasent commodity round here!). If your radio station aint tuned in to the local garage or hip-hop stations like Choice FM or Kiss 100 or you decide to wear a t-shirt showing your support to an unknown indie band, be prepared to put up with a load of abuse and to be ‘rushed’ (Another name for a beating apparantley). So if you do decide to visit my little town, please only come if its necessary as this town, as the saying from League of Gentlemen goes, is a local town for local people (or skum).

You have been warned!

Away from the bright hair and big piercings, Camden has a side to it that would put Guildford, Dagenham and any other of the dross-holes nationwide to shame (or is that pride?).

Being Camden born and bred it shames me to say that my home town is a production line of hooped-earring/flat-brimmed baseball capped wallies with the vocabulary of a pre-born wild boar. Saying that, a lot of them are quite hard and I may well get a kicking if they read this.

Top spot to visit is Belushi’s, which is a bar that must be an act of antipodean revenge on the British to get back at us for the poor service given on the boats going down under in the 1700′s. A Friday nght in there is like an explosion in a beige and tartan factory. There should be tigers jumping through the girl’s earrings and the lads’ trackie bottom waistlines are closer to the deck than their bellies.

Also, being London’s 3rd (I think) most popular tourist attraction, we get chavs from all over the world. It is a truly heart-warming sight to see so many dimwits, from so many nations, congregating at the Lock on a Sunday afternoon. Despite being a home to so many of the UK’s brightest sparks, this lot manage to lower the IQ of the area by about 60%.

The crowning moment was seeing one of them telling a lad (of Somalian heritage) who was born here and raised here and has never claimed a penny in benefits to: “f**k off back where you comes from” (sic).

Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner?

PS No offence to any of the local chavs that may read this. Although, if you can switch on a computer, you’ve probably graduated from chav to prat.

Edmonton is caught between Enfield to the north and Tottenham to the south. Its trashier than enfield but was classier than Tottenham – note ‘was’. Edmonton is now full of eastern European chavs, Serbians who wear Burberry. Of course you’ve also got the fake-jamaican gangster-rejects with their bling-bling and their sovereign rings – chav culture crosses all race boundaries.

Our chavs like the mcdonalds on fore street, which is next to the job centre, where about 2 people speak English. Opposite the job centre is cash converters, where poorer chavs go to sell stuff (nicked). There is a “sauna” below silver street station, where the frustrated chavs go to spend a few quid.

Edmonton green used to have nice, small shops. Now its got stalls selling mobile phone covers and probably heroin. Huge gashead (young chav) problem in Edmonton green market. Banks are closing all over the shop, cos they aint making enough profit.

Then there’s Edmonton county school. chavettes and rudeboys in the making. I could mention names..but I won’t.
All Edmonton needs is an asda and we’re up there with the hatfields and the Brentwoods for little pockets of chavdom.

I have now moved away from London, and although i hate chavs and want to kick there heads in, i do miss watching their antics from my former flat.

Cally Road or Scally road as it is also called, is the location for a huge council estate, and the strategically placed Pentonville Prison! Many a young chav enjoys shouting over the prison wall to wind up the inmates, often in the early hours of the morning. Young chavettes also go to say hello to the paedo boyfriends called Wayne.

There is a group of chavs who ride a miniture motorbike up and down the main road, weaving in and out of traffic, fingers crossed one day one of there joyrider mates will hit them. I once called the police because this group were making so much noise with there bike, The police rolled out a mounted officer, get in! Mess with that you Chavy bastards!

Upon walking to the tube stations, two chavs on a bike decided to launch an apple at me, probably stolen from one of the local grocers. There is also a Co-op nearby dispensing their regular hit of white lightening.

Due to redevelopments in Kings Cross, just down the road, many of the prostitutes now work in Scally Road, so young chavs get to see there mums more. Curb crawling Chavs in there Novas and Vectras are now more prevalent than ever.

Islington Bar is a chav hotspot in the evening, playing shitty rap music to entice them from there council flats. I’ve seen people coking up on the bonnets of cars outside too, its a shame no one has OD’d yet.

To conclude, Scally Road is a shit hole, and i’m sure things can only get chavvier.

Death to Chavs!