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Archive for the ‘Devon’ Category

Paignton and the tail of Torbay Road

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Paignton, a nice tranquil seaside town in the south west of england. The part of england which is ment to be a quiet place for the young and elderly to enjoy a seaside holiday but how can this happen when the lowlifes known as chavs plague the area like a disease. By day you may only see the hardcore chav down torbay road, drunk by 10 in the morning and staggering from one gambling machine to the next learning every sequence possible, but after 3.30pm the minors begin 2 decend from the local school like a swarm of smurfs they slowly transform into a burberry cap wearing community nucance. (The higher the angle of the hat the more respect given from fellow chavs.) Most people see all “boy racers” as chavs, but this isnt true. Its the likes of the £100 nova owners that see the roads as a race track with there drain pipe exhausts, scrapyard paint job and ugly “bird” seat warmer that give any young driver a bad name. These chavs “lucky” enough to have a car are often followed around but an even worse group of mobile chavs. These are the ones that have a hairdrier with wheels, yep the scooter chav, the “fastest” of them all. They think they have a motorbike between their legs but really its a jumped up lawnmower (but a chav will have more spare blades than a lawnmower) and there is always that one that is slightly older with a scrambler, the bike that does 0 – 60mph in exactly 1 calender month, down hill, with a tail wind and a very small rider. The favored place for food for this species is papas or yankees, not usually eatten though but thrown at people that are better off than them innocently driving down torbay road. Paigntons night life has dried up over the years as the chavs have given the pubs and clubs in close proximity a bad reputation.

Why has this culture become such a growing trend? Do these fake burberry clad rats not realise that the whole country is laughing at them.

Newton Abbot, Devon

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A town with highest Novas per Chav count in the country. You’ll find them hanging around the standard Spar Shop/GP Stores with that pissed off, Acne stained look of depression that haunts them for the rest of their meaningless existence.

Burberry and Von Dutch have only just reached here so its like an explosion of vomit styled tartan, but really popular in the towns only club “Enigma!”, how appropriate…
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Plymouth Episode II: The infection spreads

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The saga continues into the local countryside….

Oh dear. Yet again Plymouth is under fire, however this is not about Plymouth as such… but is more of the effects that the Swill (what we call Chavs down here) infestation of Plymouth has done to the local area. And its not a pretty sight.

Just two years ago local towns and villages were happy, pleasant places to live in with most people getting along. Unfortunately the council then had the incredible idea that if you exported swills from their natural habitat (the city) into a rural town, it would slowly wear them down and allow the council to get rid of some trouble makers from the city. If there is one thing that I’ve learnt from that; it is to never underestimate a swill.

Hanging onto their lifestyle in an almost admirable fashion (hey, I said almost ok?) they began to breed and multiply. People who were hovering on the edge of swilldom were caught in this tidal wave of burberry covered scum and were washed away. After a year there was a sizable swill population, nothing like Plymouth but still vaguely worrying. The next year, all hell broke loose.

Being in school, I could see the transformation with a horrifying level of detail and have managed to formulate a theory on how swills create such a huge power to convert otherwise normal members of the community into their cause. They act with what can only be described as a hive-mind consciousness, none acting as a ring leader (except in the mindless beatings) but all working together in a ruthless precision that would have put the Nazi party to shame. Soon students who were happily listening to heavy metal and hardcore one minute were suddenly transformed into burberry wearing, R&B listening, cigarette smoking maniacs.

Unfortunately the council had not learnt the lesson that I had, and made the same mistake once more. The head honcho swills were moved from towns to villages where there was already a small swilly following, but lacking direction. With this new leadership thoughtful provided by the council the infestation could begin anew once more. And in these small villages, swilly culture met inbred country bumpkins and the result was not pleasant to say the least… sometimes at night you can still hear the screaming.

Suffice to say, that at the moment, I personally feel more safe wandering around Plymouth at 11:00pm than I would around the local towns. And if I do ever partake in that foolish activity, I am constantly listening for their hunting call…

“Ya f**kin’ startin’ baey*?”

* – There is some debate as to how that is spelled, personally I consider that as its a modern word created by creatures of a low intelligence, it would be theoretically be spelled phonetically.


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Plymouth,a.k.a plymuff. plymouth is easly decibried in three ways.
1-shopping,cody,louies bernard,jjb.

2-”chav it up”,jesters,dance acdmy.

3-place ov chav,”budo” “swilly” “ham” “whitligh” “devonport”

A simple week for the janner chav will involve working as a dealer selling a few eights or quaters to the “beys”.earnig just enough money to buy some “white lightning” or “blue moon” cider or a few cans of stella.
After a hard week cutting nine bars of s**t weed the chav janner will find himself drinking what ever alcohol he has to a rapid pace,necking as mush as pos in as little time as possible.After the drink has been sank the janner chav will catch the 43 or 46 bus and head to “union street” (a place only for aslym seekers,”pill eds” and best of all fights.After spending 4 hours dancing up stairs in “jesters” to the sound of dated hard house,the janner chav will be fuiled up on snakebite and black and ready to “kick off”,for example-”ere int you that bey that waked kenney down the pub,it is you init ya cont,er beys cum ere i aint gonna wack ya!!”this hunting culture will take place outside jesters.After the fight the janner chav will be on a set course for dance acadmy a.k.a “danci”,”d+a”. in “d+a” you will find the pumping sounds of more hardhouse,a little old school and tec-no.(janner chavs love this s**t,and i mean love it with passion).After dropping a few “littles” or “douburys” the janner chav will be well “focked” now and needing a couple bongs for the intence come-down.
Making a “sturt” for ome the janner chav will do either more littles or sit happly in there flat smoking weed and listing to yet more hard house.
The next day the chav janner will wake at about 2 or 3 in the afternoon wack on his white la coste trainers blue nike jog bottoms and non washed burbury shirt from the night before, go down the shops and buy 10 l+b and a packet of blue rizzla not forgetting the famous cheese and onion pasty.
This type of s**t happens every week were i come from and i must admit i hate those little conts who the fock doya think ya are ya focking little conts.
(all words based on real events and absloute truth i know cus ive been there and done it my-self)
cheers beys.

Exeter (aka Ex’Ta)

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Welcome to Exeter, otherwise affectionately known as “Ex’Ta” by its moronic chavish minority. Out of all of the cities in the entire UK, Exeter has to be one of the least chavish, for the meantime, that is.
The city centre is relatively clean and is favoured by residents and tourists annually, although always incredibly busy and noisy, but not in an overwhelming Kensington High Street way if you know what I mean. The Devonshire youths that pack the city centre on Fridays and Saturdays, myself included, can predominantly be branded as Pretty-Punks, Goths, Grungers and Skater-Boys, with barely a chav or townie in sight, I’m proud to say (this is because of Exeter’s thriving ‘underground’/’alternative’ music scene). However, if you were to venture outside the pleasant and vibrant confines of the city centre, the signs of chav-induced degeneration are clearly noticeable throughout the cities suburbs. The recent negative reformation of Exeter’s subs stemmed from pioneer chav migrants mainly from Briz’Ol, Brummy, Liverpool and Nu’Castle arriving in the city and sponging of the city’s wealthy Council and multiplying at near in-human rates. The chav spawn has seeped into Exeter’s schools and has slowly begun to corrupt the suburban youth of 21st century Exeter. If you have the will power, strength, and loud-enough thrash-metal music you can fight the chavish influences and drown-out the ranting and abuse hurdled at you from such intolerant and prejudiced skanks. Also, having long hair hanging over your eyes may help shield your sight from the gleam of the chav’s cheap and gaudy gold jewellery purchased during Argos’ January sales, or at the Matford Car Boot every other Sunday.
The hell mouth of chavish degeneration in Exeter opened up in Burnt House Lane many years ago. This rough neighbourhood sprawls through the eastern part of the city, were OAPs fear to walk in the evening. You see, their screams for help would be drowned out by stupidly loud and obscene hip-hop music and the odd gunshot. However, the degeneration doesn’t cease in Burnt House Lane: the Council stupidly relocated trouble chav families from Burnt House Lane (also known as ‘Laners’) to previously pleasant areas of the city, hoping that ‘The Lane’ would become a safer place to live. They were very wrong. Violent and obscene chav clans were sent to live in comfortable council estates beside old people’s homes and community hospitals in St. Thomas, as well as previously quaint and respectable subs like Exwick, Cowick, Newtown, Redhills, Heavitree, Whipton and Pinhoe. The local Spars and Off-Licenses in the ‘villages’ may have been delighted by the increase of fag and booze sales, but each and every local has been discontented by the chav football hooligans, vandals and thieves.

Pray for Exeter. I don’t want it to become the final glimmer of hope for non-chav Britain.