Sudbury is a town which seems to have grown very quickly and engulphed the village of cornard, so much so that you cant actually tell when you have left one and entered the other. Sudbury is the next big town after the other Chav capital, Haverhill. In both these places they seem to breed chavs. There are chavs of all ages walkin around all hooded up.
I have the so called pleasure (i use tht term loosely) of playing football in Cornard and it amazes me that every tuesday the same group of chavs is always there just “hanging” around. We play on astroturf round the back of a school which is well away from any roads but the chavs still manage to get there beat-up ford fiesta down there and mo-peds, trying to impress people by doin laps of the school.
I admitadly have friends in sudbury because obviously not evry1 over there is a chavm but its very close to tht. But these friends of mine tell me many stories of chavs and fights. There is an estate called the Springlands (i think) and my informants tell me tht almost evry wheeley bin has been melted by, u guessed it, chavs! The Springlands is apparently chav central in sudbury. I also here stories of girls beating up boys.
There is also a huge rivalry between Haverhill (my hometown) and Sudbury, this rivalry is only taken on by chavs. It all started really because Haverhill has always had a reputation and if you go to surrounding areas and people start on you but if you say your from haverhill they will stop through fear, but this is not the case in sudbury, u say your from haverhill and they will start on you because they think it will make them “hard” for beatin up a haverhill lad.
Neway, after all i have heard about sudbury i was suprised to find that it wasnt already on this website.

I remember a time when living close to a kids play area was a great selling point for any house.  Your kids could go and play on the swings and it meant the area was family-friendly.

How things have changed.  To give you some idea, I live in a generally quiet and respectable housing estate in a Suffolk town.  The area beleive it or not, is considered quite “posh” by outsiders (but it’s not really that posh – just not a council estate thats all).

Our little cul-de-sac provides a quick walk-thru to the local play area, a delightful fenced-off area with colourful swings, roundabouts, see-saws, climbing frames etc.   Perfect for young families, you might think.

You’d be wrong.  On friday and saturday nights, as the sun begins to set, the trouble starts.  The trickle of hormonally challenged teens through our quiet street toward said playground, soon becomes a steady flow, as they flock to gather in their favourite meeting place.  As they swill their booze and fight like morons, their selfishness grows, and their voices get louder, and they give less of a shit about local residents with every passing glug of their white lightning.

What makes it worse is the playground is right near the pub, yeah, a great combination eh?  By midnight you can guarantee there will be no end of yelling and abuse into the night air on our quiet little road, and the suburban paradise transforms into chav-infested HELL for a good 3 or 4 hours.   It has been more and more common to hear the wail of sirens, and on one occasion I arrived home from a night out to find police crawling around my neighbour’s front garden (I’m unfortunate enough to live next to some of these people), they said they were “looking for someone”.

The selfishness can actually start as early as 6pm during school holidays.  On one recent occasion, the invasion started at tea time and the fuckwits were already half cut on cheap cider, parading up and down our otherwise quiet street like animals, treating it like their personal playground.  One of the fuckwits thought it was funny to pull down his mate’s trousers in the middle of the road, to which his mate seemed delighted, and walked down the street, cheap booze in hand, trousers round his ankles, grinning like a retard as his friends (male and female) cheered with delight.

And to think this street is (was?) inhabited by respectable families with young children.  One by one, those respectable families are moving away.  I wonder why.

To and from the playground the chavs go, continuing their lunatic dance into the wee small hours, never giving a shit about people trying to sleep in their own homes.

One day I will just loose it and shout at them to be quiet.  When that day comes, I’ll probably end up regretting it.

So, apparently Alabama has been relocated to the UK and renamed Brandon.  This tiny, seemingly quiet and peaceful town, morphs into a comedic chav-a-thon at sundown.  The main reason for the chavish behaviour, I beleive, simply has to do with boredom.  There’s not much to do in Brandon.  Thetford is the nearest town with any real entertainment for these youths (ie. shops to steal from, public benches to gather round, etc..) and even that is quite a bicycle ride away.  The premier gathering point is Flintknappers.  Especially on Friday aor Saturday nights.  Unprejudiced barkeeps serve cheap beer to whoever throws 2.50 on the counter.  Theres an adequate number of slot machines to gather round and an equally sufficient number of billiard tables to grope their 14 year old sheilas on.  Speaking of the girls, these denim mini skirt and fake suede knee-high boot clad STD emporiums are a favourite target of my ridicule.  And the best part is, I never recieve any flak from their “men,” as these chavs are extremely timid.  They only fight each other, and it’s easy to get them to do that (as it makes for great entertainment).  These chavs only have each other to intimidate and, as such, are easily frightened by a cold hard glare from somebody man enough to grow a full beard (ie. myself).  Other good chav-spotting locales are around the Ladbrokes or outside the doors of Ali’s Kebabs or Golden Chicken.  These latter 2 establishments are garunteed to be occupied by chav filth at any given time, stemming from the lack of a McDonalds in town.  The free car park is also a cant-miss, although the amount of chav buffoonery isn’t as abundant as one would hope for a dark carpark of a condemned former Co-Op building.  Add in to the mix the shockingly obvious evidence of in-breeding and the ever-growing rate of teen pregnancy.  Which reminds me of the pregnant bartender at The Bell pub, a few doors up from Ali’s Kebabs.  She’s at leats 7 months preggo, and she smoked at least 10 ciggies to my 4 pints the other night.  The skin tight white top was especially flattering, as the bottom of it rested atop her swollen stomach and the neck stretched down to the top of her nipples.  It’ll be even sexier when she has a C-section scar…

I love Brandon.

I cannot believe that this little gem of a Chav Town, has not already made it onto this site?

I would suggest that this town which was used as a dumping ground for post war chavs, could possibly be the CHAV Capital of the world!

Yes there are the usual pound shops etc, and dodgy burger restaurants full of the chaver’s smoking and screaming at there sprogs named Chelsea and Mercedes, and Elizabeth Duke is constantly sold out of tacky cheap shite items that help the Chav miesters look like Mr T’s poor relation, but most of all this town is full to bursting point and justs reaks of rotten chav shite, to an extent that I would suggest that it would be a good candidate to either nuke or send all the worlds chav’s to, so that they can all wallow in their own nasty chav culture, swop home shopping catalogues, and leave the rest of us to enjoy a wonderful non chav existence!

What a nice dream eh!?

Hello again, it has been a while I must admit. Since i last wrote, i have had time to finish my next study of the suffolk-based chav, with a glance to the small village/pit known as Kesgrave, just outside Ipswich.

This village used to be small and even picturesque, with the bell pub, and a small village hall, scouts building and the such. So where did it all go so horribly wrong you ask? What reason could i have to complain? Well, about 20 years ago certain changes occured, eventually leading to the wonderous example of chav-based accomidation known as Grange Farm Estate.

Gaze in wonder at the New tesco, providing parking space for Nova’s and ‘scorts (and increaingly 106′s), employment and a prime spot for the Bike-based Chav to hang-out and abuse the general population. Then there are the areas of green land with football pitches and play equipment niavely set out to allow small children to play, now frequented with our white-lighting swilling friends. Not a friday night will pass without some story of "dave smacked Gav over the ’ead with a golf club" – It actually happened.

Then, there is the new super-pub "The Farmhouse". It isn’t a farmhouse, it’s just crap. You don’t go here for a pint, you go here to get served massive plates of microwave food at discount prices.

Even the innocent "old ‘arf" of Kesgrave lost it’s postoffice in favour of a One Stop, and of course, assocsiated Cru. Whenever you are next down, be careful you don’t get "knifed" by a member of the Full-FX cru, or Hazardous Cru, and i’m sure there are more. They even have their own DJ/MC groupings, so you can listen to them bang out some choon’s from their cars that you haven’t heard a million times on vibe FM or SGR.
 
All the Chav’s/Mates/Gary Boy’s and their tarts decend from here onto ipswich once they learn to drive, or feel like taking the bus (unfourtunate for other commuters) so there is some occasional releif.

jeez, I can’t belive I live here on weekends.