Aaah Oxford, the city of dreaming spires. This is true of our  historical  and picturesque city centre, definately something to be proud of. Take a trip out of the centre on a no.5, 1 or 10 bus along to the end of the Cowley Road and then things take a slightly different turn. Leave the bus at “The Original Swan” and you’ll be transported from the city of dreaming spires into one of the ugliest, most depressing, soul destroying corners of 60′s urban planning known to mankind- Cowley Centre (a chav, wannabe gangsta and pikey paradise rolled into one!)  You’ve got Wetherspoons, Halfords, Peacocks, Bakers Oven and a TK Maxx right next door to Matalan- chavtastic.

I regularly have to endure the pain (but at the same time; morbid fascination) of taking a stroll into this “living zoo” which sometimes feels as if you are being transported through a vile, vomit ridden, piss stained vortex into another world known as “Chavley”. A world where some of the ugliest, chavviest, gangsta wannabes, sicknote dolebludgers and pissheads are all fighting for the same space (well thats a bit of a lie really as the pissheads are usually comatosed in the park behind TK Maxx hibernating like an undiscovered species of primeval beast cocooned in their own vomit- David Attenborough would be in his element to make such a discovery!). The first major landmark you will encounter on your tour of Chavley is The Nelson. For those of you familiar with the iconic Channel 4 series Shameless, this place could double as The Jockey- not only for its ghastly appearance but also for its inbred chavtastic clientele. It is at this stage that your eyes are blinded by the amount of rancid golden tat on display in the pub garden. The Oxford branch of Argos is in permanent meltdown as the  Elizabeth Duke section cannot keep up with gangsta chav demand. The amount of fake bling on display will either blind you or burn your eyes out of their sockets in one hit if reflected by the sun. The pub garden has been beautifully designed to make the chavs, rude boy gangstas and dole spongers feel at home. Based in a car park, the ground is carefully littered by a sea of broken pint glasses, soiled nappies, duty free fag boxes used johnnies and greasy kebabs in various stages of decay, along with the occasional dead rat. Surprisingly the chavs all manage to find themselves somewhere to sit back and relax with a beer amongst all the filth. Spliff, pint, 20 Soverign and a pay as you go mobile one hand, baby Courtney in the other. You will always hear some kind of drunken, banshee type 18 year old chavette who’s fella’s in the slammer screeching at one of her 4 kids, ”Stacey, you little cow, get the f**k back over here and put that mans wallet back, there aint no cash in it as i’ve ad a look froo it already, come sit down and ave a fag with mummy you little fucker”.
Onwards from The Nelson you pass Templars Square shopping centre but its not really worth the hassle, unless you’re a fan of Savers, Peacocks and Qs, need a bank or enjoy being cussed by gangs of 12 year old hoodies in identikit Lonsdale t-shirts and fake Evisu jeans worn so low that they have to swagger about like nobheads as if they were to try and run, they wound all trip over themselves . You can never usually get past the doors anyway as same group of hoodrats shout,”yo blood, gissa fag” at you and when you say no mate your only about 12, you usually get a response like “dat bloke’s a f**king c**t innit, next time I see him i’ll bust his face”. If I do need to enter the shopping centre I, and every other normal person then have to dodge feral groups of pregnant chavettes wearing the obligatory hotpants with the word booty, bitch or slut sown onto the arse, along with a greased up Croydon facelift hairstyle, tightly scraped back into a ponytail with those tendrils of hair hanging down which they glue to their face in curls to cover up their acne. Their vile, goblin faced little offspring usually tell you to “go f**k yourself, shitface”,just for a laugh  as they drag themselves past you. They look even smaller than the average malnourished little urchins of their age, but then you realise this is simply because they are weighed down by excessive amounts of kiddie bling and those Elizabeth Duke hoop earings that are so f**king big that a performing dolphin could easily jump through them with room to spare.

With the exception of the John Allen Retail Park which  is only good for the Chavley (Cowley) chavs to rob, race their semi bodykitted nova’s, or shag their bitches in. The only other bastion of security for Cowley Centre’s chavviest is the local Wetherspoons- a drinking mecca for chavs and inbreds and dolebludgers across the country. In fact this one is so special the local chav and inbred community that they consider it to be their second home. This can be said due to the fact that they will hammer on the windows at 8.30am (despite tha fact that it opens at 9) demanding to be let in. When the doors finally do open as I have witnessed on many a morning bus journey into town, they will force their way throught the doors like a stampede of wilderbeest, then get wankered, especially on giro day which is like new years eve for this load of useless scroungers who’s motto seems to be claim, claim, claim! I dont begrudge those who need and value that cash, but these lot dont work and just piss it up the wall at the taxpayers expense! They then parade around the place with their swaggering chavvy ways bigging themselves up with a fat wad of cash tightly squashed into a gold encrusted hand (f**king Elizabeth Duke again!) By the time they’re all wasted they tend to start trying to flog their ill gotten gains (robbed from the retail park) to unsuspecting ‘normal’ customers. Usually after this the soap opera starts, the whole area is like some hybrid freakshow but I still cant decide wether its more EastEnders, Trisha, Jerry Springer or a mixture of all. The occasional bitchfight may break out over who’s shagging who or chav loyalties may be put to the test which usually ends up with someone being glassed, furniture being thrown, windows being smashed and the type of inbred chavvy bickering you would expect such as cheap threats that only a 16 year old twat with no brain could think of. But thats life around here!

Aaah Chavley, Chavley Cowley!  The true face of South East Oxford!

Okay so you take a lovely pleasant walk along the thames river, past small villages like Benson and wallingford, and from the river edge these look like nice ordinary country villages.
Think again!
When night falls…okay even before night falls they come out.
It begins with a small clustering of noisy youths in the hithercroft, by the school or down at the river in wallingford…very shortly there can be samll army of mouthy vicous youths who may aswell belong in a zoo, that is if anyone would take them.
They drink smoke and take drugs..okay lets not pretend most of us haven’t got wasted down by a river and smoked a fag…yet what distinguishes us from them is our sense of fairness and morality.
Starting a fight for them is starting war with america..call in all the troops. Calling someone a name like bitch takes hours of careful planning infront of the mirror, and when someone says something even remotely intelligent such as you are never going to get any where in life…they stammer and stutter and mumble how you are not worth it.
I used to live in Benson and i am what some people call a chav, however i do not go out with the intention of hurting people or causing a fight therefore i am not a ‘chav’
What worries me about these poor lost troubled youths (lets be politcally correct) is that very shortly they will be mating and making new little mini me’s….which my money has to pay for.
Get off your arse and get a job!!!
so cynical considering im only 18

Dorchester has areas which are chav free, these are the private houses and seem like an oasis to me where you could live a normal life, the area of Fordington in Dorchester is very quaint and pretty but is spoilt by the chavs from the housing estates. The chav boys have a favourite trick which is to mess about with your car without causing criminal damage so you cant phone the police and prosecute but you have to put up wioth your car constabtly being messed about with, These tricks include the wing mirrors being pushed in, the wipers being pushed out, eggs and food on the car. often they do whole streets like this. The chav boys that do it are at the age now where they should be growing up, around fourteen fifteen but they are exremely immature, they do things like walk on the roofs of the local hall or youth club, or knock on your door and run away or throw eggs at your house. I live with a whole group of chavs. one woman in particular is very loud, they spend all day and every day outside in the street where they live, it is noticable that they never go out anywhere. the fact that they are examples to theior children doesnt get acknowledged, for example, smoking, drinking, fighting and generally being abnoxious and nasty is what they are teaching their children. This woman in particular seems to have some sort of anti social/ learning difficulty. she is very abusive and load and shows off with her friends in ear shot and yet the next day you walk past her when she is on her own and she doesnt say a thing. she is 27 but is still stuck in the playground, she once said, “we need more people to move in here so we can take the piss out of them, its getting boring” one night i heard a loud thump on my front door, when i looked out of the wondow I saw it was her. I looked out of the upstairs window and i saw a group of adult supposedly mature women all geering each other up to knock on my door and run away. These are women who are in their late twenties early thirties, who have had children and have families. When I looked out of the window again i saw this woman with an excited, silly face on running down the path to knock on my door. I could see her rolls of fat and flab wobbling up and down and she was heading this way. My next door neighbour is a kind of chav, she’s enormous and doesnt go out anywhere and obviously takes little excersise. she used to listens to techno music which has no sound or tune and has got to be the lowest art form. her music is so loud that you have got to wonder whether her childrens hearing isnt damaged. her youngest three year old wonders around and says things like “f**king open the dorr you f**king idiot, get that f**king thing etc etc” she sounds just like her mother but her mother is too thick to notice what she is doing. Now all the young chavs hang around at the house and its my worst nightmare, the next door down bar one has two teenage daughters who are also rude, antagonistic and look for arguments at every opportinty simply because they are not normal. the youngest one has been extensively bullied and she has been so desperate to fit in with the chav crowd for so many years that she has now turned herself  into a nasty, hateful bitch because she thinks that that is how you should be to fit in. her eldest sister opens her bedroom window and plays silly techno music on this little tinny stereo, so on a beautiful summer sunday afternoon all you can hear is “I’m a Barbie girl, youe a barbie boy, thats fantastic etc”. Anyone with half a brain should realise that maybe us residents a few who are over fifty might not like tinny techno. why would anyone have to open a window and put their stereo in the window everytime you want to hear some music is beyond me.

Continue reading “Abingdon – ‘nar meen lark’” »

There must be someone out there more qualified than I am to write a comentary on this, which must surely be the worst town in Oxfordshire. I find it hard to understand why other towns in this County warrant a scathing attack on these pages and untill now Didcot has escaped.
A Village nestling on the edge of the Berkshire downs that has grown into a sprawling ugly Town around the Railway Station that itself is dwarved by the six monsterous cooling towers of a coal and gas power station. If the Power station were nuclear the inbred chav scum would have an excuse, or maybe radiation from nearby UKAEA development reactors at Harwell has part destroyed their brains, there must be a reason.
Half of the 20,000 plus residents that make up this drab Oxfordshire township have been drawn here by employment and the quick trains to London, not knowing how bad this town is. Housing developers feature photgraphs of nearby Abingdon on their brochures hoping to hide the reality. The town now has a shiny new Shopping Centre and a yet to be built Cinema is planned, perfect magnets for the thieving little pram pushing teenage chavettes.
The male chav races his Corsa or Honda up and down the new link road since his previous drag strip of the Broadway was speed humped a couple of years ago.
Me, I don’t live there, I hope I never will. Its a bad place and has had far too many violent murders in recent years for a small town. Maybe someone who inhabits this godforsaken plot of Gods Earth can provide a fuller commentary …….