In the wee small hours of the morning what do I hear, other than the wailing of the baby; but the love call of the local Chavs. I couldn't hear exactly what they were shouting about, but swearing was dominant in the diatribe. He was wearing a navy and white Diadora track suit, with co-ordinating baseball cap, she was in denim miniskirt, a couple strappy tanktops, satin jacket hanging off her shoulders and ridiculously high white heeled shoes...in the cold February rain. She was gesticulating with a bottle of what I would assume was cider or other £3.00 bottle of cheap liquor and he was trying to snatch it...it was a funny game of Keep-Away. They embraced, she fought, she gave in, she fought him off again, he called her a few dirty words and they then continued on, away out of my sight.
*Heavy Sigh* We moved to the suburbs to get away from this sort of nocturnal invasion. They are an infestation of bad taste and manners. I'm not a prude, but really they are an outrageous phenomenon. They are ridiculed on television regularly, they are featured on cheesey talk shows daily; but I cannot find the attraction to joining this nationwide clique of Trash.
If you want to see what I'm going on about, Here's a website that illustrates it all perfectly:
I had fun naming my Chav baby...Morgan Jordan (that's a girl baby BTW)
There's this Chav car on auction at eBay...(It's since been removed from eBay..the bloke crashed it)
I'm sure only a handful of readers will know what a Chav is (Hi Fish!) as I struggle to come up with a USA comparison so you can understand the feelings of dread that follow upon seeing them ( they never seem to travel alone), I used to have to suffer them daily when I worked at Baby Gap, they were the most prolific and persistent shop lifters I ever saw, they even train the wee kids to steal for them!
Anyways...I share my frustration.
I may be a snob, and judge them harshly...but the fuckers keep waking me up, and sleep is precious to me these days.