Travel to the deepest darkest corner of Hampshire and this town is what you are greeted with; Headley Down… if the sign hasn’t been mutilated that is.
Step out your car, “GET YER TITS OUT LOVE” or occasionally the word tits can be replaced by “rat” if you have a particularly bold chav. The most likely culprit for the above mentioned comments is a pre-pubescent boy with ginger hair and a turbulant relationship with cheap aftershave which always seems to smell like swimming pool mixed with washing powder?!
Having previously experienced such an incident on my travels, I have found a way to combat these little turds. I was greeted by the bolder species of chav who shouted at me in his best pretend deep voice “Get your rat aaaaaut!”. Knowing that ignoring them just seems to make them even worse, I quickly turned to the offender and undid my flies. Him and his mates (all around 13 years old I reckon) looked at me with utter shock in their eyes and promptly disappeared rather sheepishly. Now either the fact I turned round and they saw my face put them off, or they got some sense and decided it was probably best to leave me alone.
Now I may have harped on about the lads of Headley Down, but don’t be fooled into thinking the girls are innocent beings… ooooh no! There are two breeds of female chav that reside in this particular town; the skinny peroxide blonde with the fake uggs tucked into trackies or the fat, greasy girls squeezed into tiny tops with everything on show. Now, lets start with the skinny blondes shall we?
Fag in mouth, fake Louis Vuitton in one hand, screaming child in the other. She’s successfully managed to breed and she’s only 12. Where’s her boyfriend I hear you ask? Well he’s either in the army or she doesn’t know who he is. She drags her adidas wearing sprog by its hood to the bus stop and yells at it every 10 seconds for daring to touch her bag. She is harmless, but irritating.
The larger girls (in my experience) with the hair raked back and the look of death in their eyes are the ones to watch for. You innocently brush up against them in OneStop and she spins round and glares at you. You apologise and keep your head down. You pick up your bread and milk and head for the queue, oh s**t… she’s there waiting for you. You try and keep your distance from her, but you just can’t escape her gaze. She pays and leaves and you breathe a sigh of relief as you think the ordeal is over, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Pay for your food and step outside and there she is… with 9 of her other chunky buddies. “WHY YOU BEEN HITTIN COURTNEY THEN. YOU FINK YER BETTA VAN US?! YOU STARTIN?!”. You say no and apologise and head towards the car but they follow. What do you do, run them over? Ignore them!? Stones are usually thrown, then you threaten them with the car and they sod off. I would suggest to anyone who gets the glare from a girl whilst in the shop buys her a bottle of Lambrini, it’ll shut her and her mates up long enough for you to make a speedy exit.
I am glad I have found a retreat in eastern England and am no longer subject to the chav force of Headley Down, I just pity all the good people who still live there who get caught up in this mess. REVOLT AGAINST THE THREE STRIPE ARMYYYYY!!