Whitchurch is a town in south Bristol, and it couldn’t be more chavvy if it tried. Giant gold hoops earrings are like a currency there, used to buy L & B fags and a six pack of stella. You often find groups of chavs hanging around outside the local Asda, or nearby at the main pub of the town. And of course there are such characters as "Mad Larry" (an old bloke with a head injury) who hangs around by the tescos up the road, attempting to stop the traffic by himself. He’s got about 5,000 nectar points because the staff give them to him just to leave thier shop alone! Dear old Larry also attempted to mug a friend of mine a few weeks ago, jumping from behind a wall yelling "I’M MUGGING YOU!"
Other than the characters, gang warfare is a sport. No school sport match is contested without a couple of swings at the oppostion. Stab wounds are something unsurprising and a car has been driven through one of the schools. Even more fun, the tracksuit – clad groups of teenagers often clash, probably fighting over whether adidas or nike is better. Over there, Weed is an empire, not a drug. It thrives in junkies that hang around under "The Arches", and the BMX is the first form of transport. Whitchurch is indeed a shithole if I ever saw one.

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 f**king dump. Full of twats, chavs and flood defences for the council workers!!!!