Chavtowns – Britain's worst places to live!

Of course, who could miss out the glorious town of Stone? Lined by its beautiful canals, fantastic views and pissheads on cheap cider, Stone has an array of wonderful places you can visit.

As a tourist, why not visit the local Crown and Anchor (more affectionately known as the C’n'A)?  Serving only the finest cheap lager (at very expensive prices) and providing the best brawls in the local area, the C’n'A has developed an almost cult following with pissheads throughout Staffordshire. So much so, that people from Stoke-on-Trent, Stafford and even Uttoxeter sometimes come to visit. The wonderful diversity adds to the excellent entertainment by providing only the finest bar brawls in Staffordshire. Entertainment provided free of charge Fridays and Saturdays from 10pm – 2am please refrain from laughing as they may smack you too.

Then we have the fine cuisine Stone has to offer. Why not visit Valleys?Eastern Delight? Schaffers? Stone has it all! Feel free to visit one of the many other fine Kebab houses  selling you three quids worth of filth  after you’ve had too many Snakebites.

Don’t forget to add the local suburban paradises to your tour of Stone. Walton (around ten minutes from Stone) is a wonderful area, littered with middle class ‘wannabe chavs’, who think they were raised in the ghetto and they run the town. Just another fifteen minutes from there, we have the wonderful areas of Aston Lodge, Lambert Park (commonly known as the Saxifradge Estate due to its entrance road) and Copeland Estate. Why not take a walk through Aston Lodge on a Friday night? Just try to ignore all the ‘mickey mouse’ drug dealers palming off poor quality weed and all the 14 year old girls dressed in mini-skirts waiting for their 26 year old boyfriend to come and pick them up. Alternatively, have a quick dash through the Copeland or Saxifrage Estate, Stone’s answer to Butlins. Pop down the park with a crate of Stella (only if you’re feeling rich. White Lightning will do) and have a chat with all the friendly local scrotes who got Bob the Builder to buy their beer for them.

After all that, if you still have time, check out the ‘Priory Estate’ around 5 minutes on from the Saxifrage Estate. If you’re a single unemployed mother with a loud angry kid and like gossiping with you’re equally inept single parent neighbour then this is the estate for you.

Stone! Paradise! Well ‘ard!

I love Bilston, it’s one of them places you go to and suddenly feel so much better than yourself……owing to the fact it’s such a dump even if you live on your local park bench you’ll see theres worse places to be.

Firstly theres the town centre, though i prefer to think of it as a few shops selling counterfeit goods and surprisingly gorgeous chips, unfortunately thats the only thing you’ll find gorgeous around here as the locals leave a lot to be desired. The daytime consists of many a local pondering whether to spend their dole money on cheap tat on the market, or just get one of their 7 kids to steal it for them later on. The local school kids also prowl the place in their knock-off nike tracksuits intimidating the locals by swearing and playing awful music loud on their phones and mugging old ladies in broad daylight. If you do get mugged don’t expect anyone to do anything about it, everyones seen it before many a time. If you want to come here and meet a partner, and you actually have standards then forget it, the men are typically drunk by midday, smell of a combination of stale beer and body odour through having a shower once a blue moon, and the ladies are disgraceful, typically overweight, pushing around a pram by the time they’re 15 and wearing plenty of fake designer clobber and big hoop earrings (all stolen of course). Ohh and if you do end up getting frisky with one of these creatures, do keep a condom at hand theres more sti’s floating around than there are people in the local population. Local sports include running from the police (or the rozzers as they’re known locally), hurling rocks at people having a swim in the local pool, fishing for fish to sell to the local chip shop, shooting squirrels for your supper, horse riding one of the many pikey horses on wasteland, moto-x on a mini motorbike over the “fozza” as it’s locally know (a forest to you and me), hurdles which involves jumping over a row of fences having just being caught in someones shed, fencing without any protective gear and samurai swords. If you own a Jack russell, drive a battered transit tipper, drive it topless and speak with a dodgy irish accent you may qualify as a local pikey and can involve yourself on parking a caravan anywhere you fancy, then once your 2 weeks are up move 100 yards up the road and do the same again, and steal all the copper and lead you can from local factories and houses in the meantime.
Nightlife in Bilston is surprisingly good, if your old pay a visit to the Hop Pole and enjoy the sound of your peers making fools of themselves on the karaoke and then getting mugged when they pop outside to have a smoke or make a call. The market tavern which is full of football toting drunkards on a saturday afternoon is officially the worst nightspot where the sole bartender has been caught asleep over the bar on many occasions. The Sir Henry Newbolt is great for cheap beer, also has security for that peace of mind that you won’t get punched for looking at someone funny untill you walk down the road that is. The nearby Greyhound is what could be describe as a cesspit, were all the local council estate’s most hideous residents descend upon to strut their stuff and try to up their shag count. The trumpet is the residence of the die hard alcoholics it’s oldest regulars are usually dead by 45. Other hotspots are the Robin 2 which plays host to all sorts of x-factor rejects and tribute bands, and the olde white rose which is where people flock to before a band plays at the Robin 2 to get tanked up on high alcohol percantage local brew. Former hotspots were Gavins sports bar, once this chav hole’s favorite spot until it’s owner got shot outside the front door. Another hotspot was The tropical harmony club which was host to a few fatal shootings and stabbings and eventually got closed down.
Theres a few prolific estates in Bilston worth a mention. One of the most well known in “The Lunt”, which was given this name to remind it’s residents what a dump it is. Here daily life for a bloke involves waking up at 10′am in time for Jeremy Kyle, collecting your benefits in the local post office when you can be bothered, beating up your wife and going down the pub to brag about it. Women spend most their time eating cakes to keep their boobs big, nattering outside the newsagents about how their 7 kids piss them off and then eating more cakes. Kids spend their abysmal lives fighting each other, robbing bikes from outside the local shops and then smoking dodgy cigarettes.
If you think this place is bad however, take a trip to the neighbouring estate St Chads, and don’t let it’s humble name fool you this is worse. Full of pure scum if you got put here on parole after a lengthy spell in prison you’ll wish you were back inside it was once reported on in the local newspaper where an undercover reported lived with a resident and had their car ruined and was threatened and spat at in one week, because the locals didn’t recognise them.

If you ever feel the urge to visit this place please purchase a big old car, a handgun and a flamethrower and kill as many scumbags as possible, police response times typically go into days leaving plenty of time for you to escape getting your medal for services to the country.

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.

When i moved into penkridge over 15 years ago it was a great little place really friendly with loads of pubs full of occasionally slightly tipsy but wonderful people now its a meca for the chav scum of the area and their everywhere and ahh joy what a brilliant day it is i can hardly contain my excitement at the reopening of that chav hang out the boat after its closer some weeks back no doubt to be completely fumigated after its said chavs invasion a year or so ago had totally wrecked what was once a lovely little pub now all the lowlife chavs will return to canal side like the rodents they are, invading the wharf and plaguing its decent residents again who will have to endure the jingling of their cheap jewellery and even cheaper alcohol. The centre fairs little better with jobless chavs in their trainers and casual wear (shirt and tie is an insult to them far worse then any they dole out on a regular basis to anyone who walks past and god forbid does not resemble them) their jobless hoards now being bolstered by a new crop of thirty something born and bred in the village scum who manfully take up the ranks in the chav pubs that now litter penkridge, the only good thing about the chav pubs is that it gets all the chavs in one place at the same time and let me think, not long now to bonfire night, that gives me a wicked thought have a guess what it is???

Aah West Bromwich.  Once a decent little town located between Birmingham and the gargantually chavvy Wednesbury, West Bromwich was a haven for the once hard grafting working classes to spend Saturdays with their brood visiting the now defunct Kings 123 Cinema and the large town market.  However, fast forward a few decades on to the nineties and noughties, and West Bromwich is, for lack of a better word, a shithole.

Saturdays, and indeed weekdays, are now used by the local chavettes, known as ‘Sandwell Babes’ to go “daaaaan the market wiv lil Chelsie-Brookes and Riley-James to get them sum gear from sportzbox”, visit the fine selection of shops such as Heron or Farmfoods to stock up on ”them gorjus curries for a pound”  full of elderly chavs who fight for baskets, and stop off at McDonalds to buy a well-deserved, calorie laden, bargain meal and cop a shag in the toilets with local chav boys who will leave their mark in the shape of a big fat hickey or 6 on chavettes generous sized neck.

A Sandwell Babe earns her title by fulfilling the following brief: a] she resides in a chav town in Sandwell, most probably West Bromwich or Wednesbury  b] her rolls of fat can actually be used to hide stolen items food from Netto (I have known Babes who actually do this)  c] has an obligatory lower back tattoo on her muffin top region  d] a breast tattoo fully on display, a known mating tactic similar to that used by female peacocks when trying to gain a partner  e] a chav-in-crime male partner, who is usually much slimmer than his chavette counterpart and not the father of any of her 4 multi-coloured children  f] chain smoking, booze guzzling at 9am when the markets open as she needs the energy for her long trek down to the citizens advice bureau where fellow chavs flock to ask for help on how to fill in a benefit form  g] wears an insurmountable portion of Argos bling, in an array of colours (brassy 9ct gold or sterlin’ silver) dripping from their poorly manicured, zebra-print airbrushed 3 inch nails  h] blonde highlights; a chavette will save 3 weeks dole money to make sure the brassy blonde doesn’t fade, as male chavs aspire to pull a “fit blonde wiv big tits init”.  And we can’t leave our chavettes without a herpes-spreading, white cider drinking, shagging partner now can we?!  Sandwell Lads are no better; youths tend to be 4 stone underweight, marijuana smoking, addicted to booze by an average age of 11, and hang around the doorways of key shops where they are most likely to pull the aforementioned babes (i.e. wilkos, greggs, mcdonalds, poundland).  Attire consists of obligatory designer rip-off cap, trackies tucked into beaming white socks, henleys t-shirt with a popped collar, and a sovereign ring on 5 fingers.  He will usually be in fully fledged argument with chavette with her giving him a good kicking for shagging her best friend in The Goose the night before and him giving her a backhand with the sovereign rings left on-ouch.  However, chavette will never let go of chav- who else will give her babies to fund that child benefit account and be some kind of trophy to fellow fat chavettes that she still has ‘it’ ?

The towns recent influx of East Europeans has left them somewhat alienated and contributed to WB’s downward spiral as an uninvestable chav hellhole.  West Browmich Chavs and Chavettes seem to gain a BNP-orientated political stance when immigration hits home, declaring foreigners to “fook off ‘ome” and “back to your own fookin country fookin spongers”.  Ironically, the East European women have gained jobs as strippers and the males factory work, which means they are actually contributing to society in contrast to the sponging native chavs.

No-go areas include Carters Green, a run down, neglected area where YMCA-residing chavs will mug anyone who seems rich (i.e. carries a Tesco shopping bag) and black men will hurl inverted racist abuse at whites and asians.  In short, West Bromwich is as chavvy as they come, so next time you hop on the West Midlands metro service, think twice before getting off at ‘West Bromwich Central’ and instead aspire to reach the greener pastures of Snow Hill where the ratio of chavs/middle class is 3:7  rather than 10:0.