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.

Recently, the goths who for abour 17 years, had occupied the area known as the sundial, were despursed from that area due to the new civic police, who said that they scared old women, SO with this new territory available, the chavs siesed it for themselves, now, no-one can walk by the area without being glared at by some pale, burberry laden inbred knife carrying child, usually around 14 years of age, and holding cigarettes in their hands, and perhaps their other hand down their trousers for some unknown reason.

anyway, this huge migration of chavs from the area known as ‘swilly’ or ‘north prospect’ to the sundial area was more than anyone had thought, every saturday around 100 of these hooded cowards are found in the area, so they decided to try and take more land, the grass banks outside virgin megastores, which the goths and emo’s had settled down in, a pleasant, shaded area where one could chat with a friend or challenge to a poi contest. When the chavs came to confront the goths and emo’s, the goths, who at the time was a large number of girls and couples, (possibly a strategic move by the chavs to ensure that they might have at least a fighting chance) the chavs proceded to engage the goths in a fight, it was about 20 on 1 chavs v goths) until the rest of the goths helped him out and the chavs were beaten badly. They still claim to have won the fight, stating to anyone that they dont like, that ‘er, ill get ma bayz from estover on ya, theyd kill you’ failing to realise that once this is said, a punch is landed on the jaw.

I was born and raised in Plymouth during the 80′s. Up until about 8 years old my childhood was an innocent one, making new friends, riding my bike, playing football, the usual things you’d expect of any normal upbringing. Interestingly things in Plymouth never stay innocent for long, it’s almost ironic that ‘Freedom Fields’ hospital the place where so many normal children from my generation were born is disbandoned, a desolate wasteland, but haven to anyone looking for a quick fix, or waiting to jump out and knife an innocent bystander on the notoriously dangerous Greenbank Road.

Anyway back to the point I was 8 years old playing with my neighbours down the park when suddenly our cricket ball was picked up by a scruffy looking older teenager and his comrades. They threw our ball into the nettles, stole our bikes and then the female members insisted on pulling our hair and punching us black and blue. That was my first experience of the Swilly Gang a highly dangerous and professional chav organisation in Plymouth. The park was a place where I could play freely was now property of these Chav Swillies.

It doesn’t stop there, as a teenager I had grown used to making a quick exit at the fear of ten on two warfare. Chavs never fight fairly. Sacrificing the park me and my friends found some local woods to hang out in. Unfortunately as the chav culture demands, these Swillies acquired noisey mopeds. Slow but bloody noisy. They used them in the woods. You only had to be spotted by one of them and then they would pursue you on these noisy machines. The sound was horrific and menacing. We had to leave the woods.

School wasn’t any better. I went to John Kitto. It didn’t just house all the Swilly Chavs but also every Chav in Whitley, Crownhill, West Park, Pennycross, etc. Even teachers got punched there.

So you could say I’ve been educated in the way of Chav. I’ve been a victim of ‘Chavism’. ‘Chavism’ was the bastard that spawned within the cesspool that is Plymouth.

In Plymouth Chavs are rife. They breed like rabbits, with no regard for birth control. Every chav is related in some special way. This makes it easier for the chav to vent his/her frustration. “Ere you bin callin me cousan a…” The truth of the matter is every chav has several hundred cousins in the Plymouth area, you are bound to know at least one. So what can you say? It’s best to exit ASAP before your spat on, jumped on, bricked and kicked.

As you know bonfire night has just passed. I remember as I was unfortunate enough to live close to Swilly in my youth, the huge Bonfire that would mount up near the estate in North Prospect. Every year without fail the chavs would light it days earlier. Throwing in petrol, lighters, fireworks and lynx (their preferred deodrant – but only if they got it BOGOF @ Superdrugs). Then they’d get all serious and start swearing, cussing and throwing bottles when the firemen and police arrived to rid the public of a potential hazard. Chav’s to my knowledge love to endanger other people.

Chavs drive at stupidly high speeds. And yes you’ve heard it and no it’s no rumour. Every chav in Plymouth will at some point have had a Nova. It is as Maslow states in his hierarchy of needs – the point of ‘self actualisation’ to drive a Nova with a bucket exhaust, an odd blue door to compliment the red spray, with a goodman’s tape player which can play 90 minutes of trebly helter skelter it is like an eternal orgasm for the Chav.

If you want to see the Chavmobiles at their finest in Plymouth then go to Devil’s point if you dare. Here Chavs speed into the car park with their Maccy D’s – eat it, throw it on the floor (hence the overwhelming problem with rat infestiation at Devil’s point). Then play their tribal music top whack, rev their engines, stand over the engine pretending to know what they’re doing (at night time too when it’s too dark to see) then speed off driving with one hand on the wheel and the other fondling their missus.

One thing though that I have learnt about the chav is that they have a weakness. It is to catch them unaware and alone. A chav without his older brother, uncle or pitbull is most often defenceless. They won’t suss, they won’t open their big janner mouths, they’ll shuffle pass you without batting an eyelid. But in numbers and with alcohol the same chav is a lethal weapon – intent on destruction and violence. You see in Plymouth anything goes. Chavism is about adaptation they are like the borg. The innocent bystander fights with his fists the chav uses bottles, metal bars, coshes, his mates, bricks! A chav fights better with burberry so always expect to see checks.

I’m not sure about the UK as a whole but certainly in Plymouth the chavs favourite season is summer. This is because during the hot days Chavs don’t have to wear anything above the waist. And seeing how every male chav works for his Uncle either as a builder, bricky, window cleaner (or should I say window shopping), listening to Plymouth Sound on their crummy radio the chavs are able to expose their bodies to the sun’s damaging rays in order to acquire the most prolific tan. A chav won’t use sun cream and will do as much cowboy work as possible in order that they can turn a dark muddy reddish brown colour not too dissimilar to the old tramps who sit on the Hoe drinking all day.

If you look really carefully you might even notice the ‘extreme’ chavs walking around town topless in the bleak months of October – November. Yes they will boast their cheap tans, their scrawny malnourished bodies and the awful tattoo they have inscribed around their belly button proclaiming proudly “Made in Swilly”

I realise I’ve been blabbering on for ages now, but ‘chavism’ for most normal people in Plymouth is a daily experience. Chavs are everywhere in particular they are infesting Plymouth’s bus service. They don’t just cut you up in their Novas but also the younger chavs congregate at the back seats of Plymouth’s citybus service. Watch out for the number 35, 61, infact any bus service can easily fall victim to these. Its on the buses that you can hear them shouting out jannerisms, looking out the windows for their mates, “ere its em me cuzun”. You’ll hear extreme common swearing, stories of their latest conquests, who their “gona do in” etc. Dare you look behind you either – you’ll be received with the timeless “ere wot ya looking at!” Then suffer endless spit balls in your direction (Maccy D straws used as peashooters with their snot and flem as ammo). You’ll feel pepsi bottles full of urine hit the back of your head and when you turn around the confront the problem you’ll notice all the chavs staring at you in silence until the gobby one says “Ya got a’ problemz” The best thing to do is just get off the bus at the next stop and walk to your destination.
It’s the same if they are on their own, when using public transport the chav always has his headphones in. Listening to his unstructured beats at the most ridiculous volume. Everyone on the bus has to put up with it and the chav justs sits there motionless whilst doing an incredible amount of damage to his own ears. Hence the reason why when they are together they have to shout and make loud grunts in order to clearly hear each other.

Perhaps an historical day for the chav was the recent re-opening of tinside pool. A chav hotspot. They love to wade in the saltwater of tinside, cool and refreshing but also fairly discreet for the chav when he/she urinates in the shallow end. Yes that’s right don’t let your baby learn to swim at tinside. Also it is here that the chav will nick your towel, your underwear, your shoes, anything that will fit them. There are a generation of Plymouth chavs who will nick anything. Chavs love to use tinside as a drinking parlour. “Stellas” is the champagne of chav beverages and is often used to kick start a mates birthday party, but in Plymouth it is “White Lightin” that is the most common choice. It’s cheap, tastes of chemicals and is just over the 5% marker. Any qualified chav would recommend it.

To be honest I better stop, there is more but I it would just go on and on. My advice to you is visit Plymouth for a week if you want to take the crash course in Chavism. Other than that don’t bother. Look out soon for ChavWars. My own personal account of dangerous encounters with Plymouth’s hardest Chavs.

Right this is my first entry so i make no appologies for any mistakes!
My questions are….1) what did I (or any other decent human) do to deserve an influx of chavs?!?!
2) why are they so god-damn stupid?!?!
You can hardly walk throught the town centre (famous for its concrete facade and utter shityness) without hearing “cont”, “fok”, “what yer lukin at?” and many other missuses of the queens english.
Recently the police had a cunning idea of issuing a dispersal order for the city centre but didnt tell the locals when it was to be inforced (late eveings and night time – to stop the drunk hordes migrating from Mutley’s pubs (after shutting time) down to Union Street for “drink, drugs, fights, burds and shit”). Well anyway..the dispersal order has caused resident Goths (and others with good taste in music and dark senses of humour + intelligence which is what really sets them apart) to move their haunts a full 50 foot to outside Virgin Megastore. This place is in the centre of a narrow walkway between Cornwall Stret and New george street so Chavs can simply walk past, insutl and start fights with little effort! (anything requiring effort seems to put them off..) now they can stare and throw “witty” comments with just as much ease and interest as visting a zoo! hence the problem escalating. God save us….
Janner chavs arent the brightest people by a far far far thrown long shot. they steal and rob and fight etc in their own neighbourhoods! But what amazes me is the simple “hive-mind” of chavism. They are like burbery coloured sheep. it seems that the moment you fully become a chav (to which most young “sporty” twats hope to become) is only when you move to an area renowned for its poor society, levels of crime, ASBO’s, and danger. like Swilly, Stonehouse or anywhere to the West of Plymouth – coincedence..i think not, they are planning to invade Cornwall next, Saltash has already been attacked by the first of the “warbands”. but why move somewhere where any hope of a decent life is extingueshed upon arrival?!
Then they have the super cool names for their gangs (they do NOT live in ghettos or even hoods, but in areas so bad that the army seem like the only people who could make headway against the violent clans, i know the police have failed in every attempt so far) their gangs are called things like the “West-Hoe massive” (even has its own website for gods sake) and “E-unit”.
The gangs have no leader as the dominant position is held by the toughest lads and guys with the most arrests under his belt (not a sign of brains/success to me…but then they are sub human) thus are allways changing as the latest guy gets out of the “clink”. These lads are controlled by their girlfriends (normally many years younger and with many kids by many fathers). The gangs wage warfare and territorial disputes…but the fights always hapen in the city centre.
For instnce i live in an area called Mainstone near Estover and so my local gang is the E-Unit which quite often fight “turf wars” against Efford and Stoke who live miles apart and in the csae of Stoke is the other edge of the city! So the fights take place in Plymouth city centre and members are rounded up by the girls who go from bar to club spreading evil rumours and saying things like “eer matey yer live near us dunt ya, i’s sawd yer dis mornin, come fite cus efford is tryin it big time innit” (to which i reply “NO id rather be fighting you but your brains ahave ben replaced with muscle destroying my advantage”). Why do the fights happen so far from the “turf”, isnt it obvious…its because there are loads of “the old bill” (police) in town and so the leaders and others who fight the hardest can win distinction by having a swing at an officer and the geting arrested in front of the girls. However how this impresses them is beyond me because the lad doesnt get released for 4 hours so spoiling the chance of a quick shag and increasing the chance some other guy will get “nicked” to impress the same girl 5 minutes later (our police are…quick and tend to let them go because of the sheer numbers of people arrested and differeing statements duye to alcohol and drug abuse).
Burbery isnt big and it isnt clever or nice!! Nor is the rest of the shit gear but who am i to complain… it is said my kind (normal humans) “dont understand” and are “taking the piss innit”.
Before i go, why do chavs find it necessary to excelerate betwen speed bumps?!?! even when they are 30 foot apart on a narrow winding one way street (such as the Hoe)? its soo stupid its beyond belief. It can only be beeten by seeing Chavs fit “neons” to 25cc scooters! and strap glowsticks all over anything bigger!
Well thats it. Plymouth suffers from a great plague of unwashed, sexualy diseased, theiving, ignorant, stupid, burbery sheep like morons who are know as CHAVS!
ooh quick brainwave…as they are so thick and sheep like, known for strength (so many fights breeds a warrior caste) and simple idioticy…they could be fashioned into the perfect private army! Stupidly loyal, cheap, and right wing to the core (except when some idiot liberal offers more welfare benifits for their 8 children, simply becasue the poor bastards each have differnt parents). Im off to create an army….