Still A Kid Inside!

Im on the right! :) I can assure you that this was a bit of fun, and i dont belong in a mental institution.

Because Chavs Scare My Grandma.

A ‘chav’ is a species that comes somewhere between vermin and parasite. It earns its living by stealing from its local supermarket or preying on a grey haired granny, too wrinkly and weak to defend herself. The more experienced chavs earn their living by selling low-grade cannabis and every other drug know to man, to school children.

Spotting one of these social demons is easy; just look for a gravy stained Burberry tracksuit, with the bottom of their ‘trackies’ tucked into their shockingly dirty, branded, yes branded, socks. All chavs wear a permanent frown because they think it makes them look ‘hard’; however, they are in fact completely unaware that it makes them look as if a rat has deposited something rather unpleasant in their Nike trainers. No matter what stage of chav-elution the chav may be, they are all distinguished by their trademark walk. Now don’t be fooled, it’s not easy to learn the chav ‘walk’, and if you do it wrong, you risk looking like an elephant trying to ride a unicycle, this is how you would teach the chav ‘walk’. Step 1- place both hands down your trackies, making sure that your bum is showing completely. Step 2- stand with your feet shoulder width apart. Step 3- arch your back, making sure you look as if you have some sort of 6-pack. Step 4- walk forward; following the first three steps, not too fast, but not too slow. And your there, if you are finding it difficult, pretend you have just relieved yourself of last nights curry… in your boxer shorts.

Chavs without exception start smoking the cheapest brand of cigarettes from about the age of seven, mainly due to a chronic inability to withstand peer pressure. But unlike regular smokers, who don’t come under the ‘chav’ category, chavs tend to inhale much deeper than necessary when dragging on their appropriately, ugly-named ‘fags’, almost as if their life depends on it and then to finish the whole smoking performance off, they morph themselves into more of a dragon than they already are and blow the grey cloud of murderous smoke out of their nostrils, making their eyes water, but still somehow, they think they’ve managed to maintain their ‘coolness’, this debacle then repeats itself until the stub of the cigarette is barely visible. Then they wait approximately thirty seconds before lighting up again. The age of seven also happens to be the age of which most ‘chavettes’, that is female chavs, in case you didn’t know, have an baby for the bonus of social payments. The more small people that come out of you when you’re a chav, tends to affect how other chavs look at you, the more the better, one baby under the age of twenty is a bit embarrassing if you’re a chav, two is noticeable but still not up there with the best, three is getting to the point where you have a twin buggy nicked out of a skip and another baby perched on your hip, its good at this point but not great. To be a ‘queen chav’ you have to have to have had at least four babies, all under the age of twenty, preferably all from different dads, just to spice up the action a little, this status is like being the Tiger Woods of the golf world, you can’t get much better than it.

Unfortunately for society, chavs seem to think that us ‘normal people’ are interested in every single aspect of what they have to say. God knows what influences their language and the words they have adopted into their minimal vocabulary, perhaps it’s all that time they spend sniffing glue in their spare time, or maybe it’s just passed down from chav to chav. ‘Normals’ will probably never know what inspires chavs to speak the way they do.  This language that chavs have cannot be taught, like most accents, I’m afraid that if for some bizarre reason you would like to take the language up, you will actually have to hang around with the miserable creatures and just hope to pick the nonsense up.

The funny thing about chavs is that when they are on their own they are completely harmless; they only become a danger when teamed up with other ‘hard nuts’ and a personality transplant takes place, they then turn into a brick-throwing, car stealing, spitting machine. You will normally find a group of chavs and chavettes outside a MacDonald’s or at a bus stop terrorising old people. A chavs favourite hobbies, male and female, tend to be picking on anybody who has a brain, having underage sex with no protection, getting drunk, and starting fights with random people just because they feel like it, or that particular person cast their eyes over the devilish chav for over the allowed time.

You can tell if someone is a chav or not by their attitude. They think that anyone who doesn’t listen to their type of music or watch their sorts of films is a ‘weirdo’. They think that Burberry is the height of all fashion and they look down on anyone who isn’t exactly like them. The easiest way to humiliate a chav is to ask them to recite the alphabet or do a simple multiplication.

I think that you may have gathered from this, that the thing that annoys me most is chavs. Unless you’re a chav of course, in which case you were probably lost on the first word.

A Blogging Virgin

The idea is to write a description that entices your reader and makes them interested in what you have to say. I made an attempt at dong this, by writing a sentence cautiously, cross examining every single word, the way it would sound when people read it, the way it would come across to them, whether it appeared offensive and critical or light-hearted and funny...but then reality hit, well, i say reality hit, but the reality was that i was beginning to get a serious hand cramp from the repetitive clicking on the backspace button, so i gave up on that idea before i caused myself an injury. Poeple have told me i should write in a diary every day, noting all my thoughts and 'feelings', and of course i nodded along and said 'yeah, that sounds like a great idea, yeah, i'll get right on that.' Clearly that was never my intention. I mean, do i look like Anne Frank? Obviously because this is a blog, and not some sort of perverted webcam, you cant answer that question, so lets just say its rhetorical. No offence to anyone who writes in a diary, but to me its for those verging on depression or you know, those people who live with 12 cats and rock back and forth rhythimatically on a wooden rocking chair all day. But a blog, a blog is different, you can be annoymous and theres no risk of your little brother finding it hidden under your mattress. So, this, evidentally is my blog. Enjoy! Criticism is welcome....bitching, unfortunately, is not. :)