Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in United Kingdom, West Midlands, West Midlands

Shite hole of the West Midlands, you would have thought that the airport could at least take the burberry biatches and the scum kids n dads ( all 3 of them , but they’re still not sure who father which of the 3 little f*****s) out of the city and drop em off en-route to europe someway over the channel, no, no such luck. So wr’re stuck with the bastards, every single chavving one of them. This is a city built on dole money, thieves, car twockkers, muggers, smack rat junkies and every other kind of seminal piece of s**t that it would be an affron to tip down the sewer, coz even s**t aint THAT bad.

Take a look at the city centre on any given day and see the chav mums with the kids in the prams, 3 a breast on the pavement, expecting you to move into the f*****g road and get run over, coz little adams life (who will grow up into a right thug c**t) is more important than yours. Like F**K!

The pubs are awash with the scummy fucks on a friday and saturday night, and come closing time, steer well f*****g clear of a 2 mile radius of the city centre, it gets gridlocked with all the taxis trying to gupta a fare out of the biatch brigade that need to get home, so hubby can go out burgling soem rich f*****s home on the kenilworth road or whobberly area. Bless them all!

I pray for the day an airliner does a PAN AM 103 and strafes the city centre on giro day, killing the f*****s in an avgas burning flame of hell filled frenzy, and showing that in deperate times, even god gets fucked off with the nike trainers and burberry hats. Chav scum fucks everywhere you look, wouldn’t be so bad if they could talk english, worst of all, the pakis have caught on and so have the eastern european contingent in Hillfields, so god f*****g help us all in Chav Cov, coz we’re all f*****g doomed by the rat-breeding inbred foul smelling gutter scum that live here. Every time I see adrug dealers been nailed in the paper or an overdose, I laugh and do a jig, f*****g scum, all need exterminating dirty needle swapping festering f*****g scum of the bowels of s**t encrusted hell. Long may death be painful for you scum fucks. At least they won’t be reading this, coz the f*****s cant work out how to plug in that stolen PC they got from next door, and even if they do, I get the leccy meters run out … see ya chav fucks. And remember in Coventry, chavs rule Ok ! f*****s they are !!!!


Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in United Kingdom, West Midlands, West Midlands

Let me take you on my journey home from work. This will give you a ride through the lovely Coventry or a it is now called Chaventry. I start by getting the 19w bus the journey begins in Canley. At the top of Charter Avenue the bus gets loaded with female Chavs and their prams with screaming chav toddlers. They only go 200 metres down Charter Avenue and get off (Presumably don’t want to make the short walk and dirty their Reebok
trainers. All goes quiet for ten minuets, as you go through pleasent Earlsdon but then you pull up in Chav high street (Trinity st). as you get off the bus you are surrounded by Chavs coming out of Sainsburys. All wearing their trademark burberry and Timberland jumpers, presumably heading to cash generator to flog last nights loot or buy a dodgy car stereo and alloys. I quickly get on the 36 bus. This bus is again full of the Chavs who have just came from Sainsburys and Cash Generator. I try not to go upstairs because this is where the hardcore Chav boys talk loudly on their mobile phones and secreat smells you would only find in the sewer. Downstairs is the Chav mums and prams again, funnily it is hard to tell the Chav mums and their kids apart, they all look the same age. as we get to Pinners croft a third of the Chavs depart, yelling to the other Chavs they will see them later in some carpark or other. Then we get to Chav Avenue (Proffitt Avenue.) As you get off the bus the rest of the Chavs depart. This is around 5.30pm, all the Chavs are out walking their staffy dogs, in all their finery, sovereigns, chains, burberry caps and puma trainers and that is just the Staffy dogs. As you walk down the road you think it is Euro 2004 again, with all the St Georges crosses hanging, then you remember that was months ago. They probably don’t know we went out of the championship, their leccy cards have probably run out. Luckily I then turn into my road, peace at last.