Chavtowns – Britain's worst places to live!

We’ve seen them all. Hanging casually around lamposts and on small
slate walls in your local area. Tastefully decked out in the latest
tracksuit bottoms that have been washed with extra Daz in order to give
them that brand new ”I’m not poor” bright white look. Shame the
trainers and the fake Fred Perry polo shirt are caked in sweat, kebabs,
non alcoholic beer and a splash of mud. They always seem to have a
lovely eyebrow piercing, which is the one only way to lower your IQ by
90 points in about 3 seconds. A nice cap that cost far too much (or
look like it is), equally dirty looking and angled at a good 45 degrees
to allow the brain under that cheap wet look gelled hair to breath. You
know the sort, the kind who’ve just stepped off Jeremy Kyle.

So
what is there purpose. Seemingly, it would be to ridicule and despise
and poor passer by regardless of race, religion, gender or hair colour.
The one thing you can say about chavs in their favour is that they
treat everyone equally. Well equally poorly. Their idea of intimidation
is blurting out a flurry of four letter long expletives over and over
again with the odd chant of ”you starting” and mock ”gangsta” lingo
such as ”blud” and ”safe”. No. I have many friends who are black
who are very well educated and feel no need to speak in this
unarticulate manner. It’s quite poor. A popular way of ridiculing any
passer by is picking a feature and shouting it out loud. For example,
if one has ginger hair, their idea of offending you would to be shout
”ginger” whilst taking a swig out of a cola filled White Lightning
bottle. Offensive indeed. The birds clad in their Bench Jackets and skirts up to their bottoms seem to find all this hilarious despite any distinct lack of wit or construction to their insults.

Of course when they are all out of
insults and cola white lightning, their idea of fun is to either kick a
fanta can round a concrete using two baseball caps that keep blowing
away for goalposts or resort to the monstrosity that is Bebo. Ah Bebo.
This is the site to what I believe to be the cause for Britains current
illiteracy problem. Where many young children come together to pose and
take semi naked pictures of themselves whilst spelling everything
incorrectly using ill advised and tasteless acronyms such as ”HTID”.
Many of them also claim to be in ”Hooligan Firms” which you just
think ”No. you’ve seen Green Street once and threw a mates trainer at
someone who supports Man United instead of Arsenal”.

That
brings me nicely onto Boy racers. Cars. Well not cars, more kennels on
wheels. The Renault Clio for example. Thats a crap car so why not stick
an extra tonne of plastic attachments to weigh it down and affect the
perfomance even more. No. There is no need to play your latest Clubland
4 CD whilst chucking a bag of chips out of the window with the optional
McFlurry carton and Half drunk Chocolate Milkshake.

The music
on the phones is just as annoying. Lets all stand under a lampost just
as its getting dark and then play poor happy hardcore ‘choonz’ out of a
tinny blown out speaker on a Samsung. No.

Shrewsbury has to be the home of the chav. Boasting and Index, Argos and a chip shop all one one short street at one time, it is the place to hang out and spit at passers by. There is a mix in Shrewsbury – the chavs and scroats that hang around outside the many shit pubs and KFC etc, and the thirty somethings that think because they live in Shrewsbury and have a few quid that they are middle class and should be treated like royalty.

The place is a fucking dump. Full of twats, chavs and flood defences for the council workers!!!!

I live near telford and me and my dad sometimes go out for a drink in a pub up there where some of my dads friend hang out. There is always trouble in the area as there are two villages nextdoor to each other called sutton hill and woodside. These to villages hate each other and the headbangers from either villages meet up every night in gangs of 30 – 50 for a fight. We must have been up the pub up there at least 5 times and there has always been trouble. The first time we were at my aunties party when someone was found dead in the toilets suferring from a sever beating in the head. The second time i was there my dads friend got a chunk of his face bitten off by a headbanger that didnt even know him. The 3rd time a couple of lads from woodside walked in and they both got slashed by stanley knifes and riot police had to come in to save them. The 4th time someone got murdered again after gettin beaten up by a chav with a baseball bat after a local rape. And the last time I went there, there was a local football match on between telford united and shrewsbury fc, the headbangers from the hard parts of telford (woodside, sutton hill, donnington, and general telford) all went down to a field to fight the shrewbury football hooligans. The result was with hundreds of people getting arrested. I have been walking around telford on my own alot recently and have been stopped by local chavs asking me for a spare “ciggy” i just say no and walk off before trouble occurs. Looking around the midlands and msot of england telford is one of the roughest, nastiest, chavviest towns I have ever seen

Just to keep you up to date, the spar at Shawbirch was burnt down in an arson attack by the very chavs that used to shoplift from it every night. Which means of course that the Shawbirch Chavs have now migrated to Wellington, as if wellington wasn’t bad enough already. I’m surprised you only gave it a fleeting mention. I used to live in Telford and returned there for a night out in wellington with some old friends. Jesus Christ, you can’t move for single mothers and teenage freaks who think they’re the bollocks. The streets are strewn with human waste, it’s bad enough in the day time when they all congregate outside the benefits office or fighting in poundland, then there’s the pissed up tramps at the top of town but atleast you can engage them in conversation as they were once normal people. At night however,wellington is ruled by chavs, whole herds of the parasitic crettins roam the streets shouting unintelligable grunts, pissing and vomiting their way through an average saturday night, it reminds me of the film Resident Evil, when you look in their eyes they convey an air of mindless vacuity matched only by a gargantuan arrogance which invites you to take a swing at them. When you do administer the thrashing of the miserable wretches life though, you find that they have a collective swarm mentality and while the first few go down like a sack of shit they are reinforced by their brethren from further afield. Their isn’t even a means of escape from this shithole, when you reach the bus station you generally find that it has been laid to waste by soap dodging morons fuelled by cheap cider, every step closer is met by the crunch and squelch of broken glass and vomit underfoot. when you approach the actual bus shelters you find that they have been commandeered by local children who find this an irresistable environment for sniffing glue and having sex. People of late are generally only attracted to wellington if they want to see a good bare knuckle fight or a stabbing. The rest of telford is in a similar state, drunken men fighting over fat slags to the sound track of police sirens.attractive women are few and far between. however, pox ridden obese slappers proliferate. most of them sporting slut hoops, that particular style of earring which denotes the wearer as a gang bang jizz mop. the size of the slut hoops worn usually correspond to the size of the owners diseased benefit scrounging orrifice. the only respite to be had was when local black guys started turning up dead or shot by the police, the whole of wellington and hadley was boarded up and the local black and asian population rioted for a few days, this had a very intimidating effect on the chavs and as a result during the riots you could walk the streets without fear of being accosted by leering wastrels looking for a fight. I have since moved to redditch, a single mother offered me a blow job if I would buy her a bag of chips. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, eh.

Being a observer of the Chav’s has nearly driven me mad as I foolishly ask myself WHY? and attempt to understand the Chavs.
They hang out in the phonebox in the street then smash it up at least once a week, then they attempt to walk through the broken glass barefoot!!! like Chav-swarmi !
They trundle up and down the street between each others grungy houses all the day and night yet still need to scream and shout at each other from opposite ends of the road!!
At present it is autumn so we’ve come to expect the firework obsession for the next month or so. The Chav’s steal everything that ain’t nailed down, whinge about being piss poor in the ghetto innit, whine that they can’t afford to buy ganga and beer yet blow their pooled giro’s on fireworks every night!!! Oh the unfairness of it all!!!
Even though they’ve turned me into a neurotic curtain twitcher I can’t decide which ugly, tracksuited bloke lives where! They all look the bloody same!
Most surprisingly of all, the Chav’s can’t under stand why the rest of us don’t want to Chav it large!! I personally like my sofa if sitting on the urine soaked pavement freezing my arse off is the alternative!
I pray for the day these foul chavettes get knocked up and move out to the Fairfields estate but they may well be unshaggable and therefore unsuitable breeding stock even in this limited genepool!!.
Some more Chavstery’s:
Do all gansta’s live 20 to a house with their mum?
How does crime pay when you can only afford to blare your stereo for two shite songs before the leccky meter runs out?
Don’t proper ninja burglers wear black not white tracksuits?
If they sit on their arse all day bored shitless why can’t they wash their minging hair?
I ponder……..I despair……