Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Arh Ipswich, where do i start, The s******e of the south. I have been to some scum ridden areas (cardiff, sheffield…) but this place takes the biscuit. What the f**k has happened here. The 12 year old chav kids hang about like the sewer rats they are outside McD’s with thier 20year old slut mums and thier 35year old waster grans, (its great to know 5 generations of your family) Having worked in one of the towns busiest bars iv seen it all. Little kids about 12 racially abussing the 7 foot brick shithouse doorman cos they wont let them in. Twats in fake burberry caps from the market bottling each other because they cant even fight properly anymore. The slut girls with massive necks (due to the wieght of thier fake pat butcher earings (that says it all – fake pat butcher earings)) talking like they have never learned english flashing thier tits for a £1 shot (class) Then theres the night clubs, if you manage to get to liquad in one piece without being mown down by a twat in a £10 with a £200 bodykit on it, you wont leave in 1 peice. To compare the bouncers there to neanderthalls us unfair to our early cavemen. I have seen blokes twated only cos their girlfriend is good looking. If you do get in there is the scum in the club. If you dont look at your feet your in danger of being twated by 30 pissed 12 year olds cos you looked at them. Then there is the other club Zest – as victor mentioned 4murders in 4 years by the same doormen (good to known that when uv had the shiit bottled out of you nothing will happen!) Yes Zest, a place of class where the yardies (lol) walk round syringing you and leave a note in your pocket saying welcome to the world of aids. Know this is harsh but thier the lucky ones cos they wont have to live in ipswich for much longer. What made me laugh is that the council saw the us bombing iraq and thought that looked like a good regeneration scheme. Come to think about i think the looting rates are higher amoung the ipswich estates than iraq and that there are less bulidings in disrepair in iraq. I think that ipswich is best summed up by the Orwell bridge, it thinks its one of the biggest in the uk but actually its the shittest, the only thing its best at in the UK is that it has the highest suicied rate out of UK bridges. That says it all, the chav twats dont know that you need a cord to bungee. Still i wont tell them if you dont
Ipswich – The sewer of the south.


Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Ouch!!! This place really is bad. Hull may have been voted England’s crappiest town – and after a couple of visits I can see why – but Ipswich has worse violent crime stats than Hull by a whole person. It doesn’t look as rough as Hull, most of the estates are comprised of terraced and semi-detached council houses in reasonable condition with only two tower blocks and a few areas of higher rise more run-down ghetto style council housing: but rest assured it is nothing less than an absolute craptank.

I’d wager that a good 80% of Ipswich’s residential is comprised of council estate – of which there are 5 main areas – all of them overly large. Whitehouse which is the Whitton Estate at the ASDA end of town, Stoke Park which is (I think) East Ipswich up from the train station, Chantry Estate off the London Rd (other side of station), The Nacton Estate: proud home to Holywells High School which received a special plan of action from the gov’t after a pupil got stabbed in the neck on the playground; and the Eastbourne/ Gainsborough end of Ipswich which – if I am to believe the graffiti opposite Zest – plays host to a group of pseudo-intellectuals calling themselves “Da Gainsborough Massiv”.

Nice.

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Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Around the shops of Ipswich, chavs nestle, stealing any bike they can see. It doesn’t seem safe to live here any more. The little “think they’re hards” walk around, acting like they’re from london, threatening to mug you of anything, speaking so fast that they stutter constantly. Drinking special brew on street corners, even the most street wise people can get put off from Ipswich. Gainsborough seems to be the worst area. I live here and it has worsed no end over the last couple of years. Police patrol constantly but it doesn’t seem to help much; the chavs should be shot!


Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Ah, Ipswich…… a large thriving town but just a stone’s throw from pretty rural countryside and quaint little market villages. Okay, it’s lumbered with a stupid name, but we can live with that. What we can’t live with are the Chavs who have invaded every corner, and especially MY corner of Ipswich.

I live in Whitton, one of many council estates in Ipswich which all look the damn same, except for the graffitti – plastered round the shops where I have the misfortune to work are tributes to “Da So Whitton Crew”, obviously a name invented by someone of extremely limited mental capacity who’s listened to far too much American gangster rappers and wannabe American Gangsta Rappers (you know the sort, the ones that would like to have been born in the Bronx but were actually born in Islington and went to public school).

You can’t miss the Chavs in Whitton. The preferred habitat of these almost nocturnal creatures is the rows of shops scattered throughout the estate. Immune to cold weather, snow or rain you can see them hanging about on the corner and near the phone boxes in large herds, wearing tracksuits and check fabric in Dysentery Beige. Females of the species sport painful-looking hairdos where every single strand is pulled back to form a tail, beaten cruelly into submission by an entire Economy size can of aerosol hairspray from Superdrug’s own-brand range and the latest in Shockwaves silly-putty.
Males of the species have developed the curious habit, possibly a display of “manliness” designed to attract the female, of wearing many heavy items of gold jewellery and tracksuit bottoms tucked into socks. Female mating displays involve squeezing into the tightest possible clothes, forcing the fatty layer of stomach and buttocks up and over the waistband. Due to apparent cold-weather immunity, the tops worn by these females appear to have been designed for six-year-olds so that any male in the vicinity can immediately see what is on offer.
Mating of the Chav species takes place throughout the year, and breeding is easy, females have the first litter of young at around 14 years of age. Offspring are immediately acclimatised to the habitat by the mother – bringing the infant Chav in an Argos pram each night to the meeting place, with a bottle of White Lightning tucked under the blankets.
Observers assume the ears of infant Chavs are poorly developed as screeching, shouting swear words, loud music and breaking glass appear to have little effect on the infant.

Reactions to this fairly new member of the rodent family can be extreme. Hysterical laughter is often the reaction when faced with the mode of transportation employed by Chavs. Old, economical cars such as Forn Orions or Fiestas are modified with spoilers a whale would be proud of, lowered suspension, halogen headlights to irritate the hell out of other road users, cherry-bombs to announce their arrival in the most obnoxious manner possible and blue lights for the underside of the car in the vain hope that someone would think they have NOS installed (for further reference, see Fast and the Furious available on DVD or VHS)
Since many Chavs do not manage to get past Year One of high school, mathematical sensibility is totally beyond their grasp – they would simply not understand the logical statement “You could have bought a decent car for the money you spent making that one look really stupid”.

Evidence also points to the Chav having an exceedingly poor grasp on the English language. Communication between them generally consists of grunts, limited to “Uh, Wot, Yuh, Yer, Yeh and Nar” , and swear words “Fook”, “Fookin'”, “Twat” etc. A typical example of a Chav sentence construct would be “Wot yer lookin’ at yer fookin’ twat?”.
Temperament tends to be aggressive when in a herd, but very weak when confronted away from the pack. Their bark is worse than their bite, a display of “well ‘ard” behaviour such as a threat to “twock yer one” or “I’ll bottle yer” is likely to be withdrawn as soon as the Chav sees that you may “twock” them back (blood from a broken nose ha proved to be hard to wash out of white tracksuits, or clean off white stillettoes).

Fascinating to study they may be, but there is a very sobering thought that must be considered when dealing with Chavs as a species. They are breeding the next generation of people in Britain. The very thought is guaranteed to strike terror into the heart of an ordinary human being.

A proposal currently making it’s way through official Government channels and six hundred miles of red tape may solve the problem of Chavs simply and easily. The beauty and simplicity of this proposal to limit the population of Chavs in once-Great Britain has gained popularity due to it’s twofold effect of reducing the number of breeding Chavs and appeasing the opponents of the ban on hunting foxes, as well as allowing the town-dwelling residents of this country to join in a sport previously only enjoyed by rich country folk.

Quite simply, Chavs should be hunted with packs of hounds to the death every weekend.


Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Nestled amongst much rural splendour in Suffolk, Ipswich is an ancient market town with a rich history. Unfortunately it is now also a hive of the most inbred, intellectually stunted and fashion challenged morons in the UK.
Central to the mix-and-match-sportswear and Argos jewellery crowd is the shining haven of Cardinal Park, a monumental bastion to chavism so poor in it’s degree of clientelle that even the Virgin group swiftly divested themselves of their stake in it’s “multiplex” cinema so as not to be tarred by association.
The temple of worship on this fast food, chrome and glass connurbation is Liquids nightclub. Liquids team of heavy browed low IQ doormen have the singular honour of being the most arrested and trialed team of missing links in the region, outdoing even their spiritual relations in nearby Colchester. My favourite incident to date is when they allowed a group of young chav lads in with their hats on, and then threw them all down the stairs an hour later for not conforming to the “dress code” – i.e. wearing hats. Another infamous triumph was when one of them managed to mace an entire queue of people during a “fight”. Quite why these giant men have to resort to chemical weapons to stop a group of eight stone Burberry wearing alcoholics is still unknown.
Liquids is the spiritual home of “garridge” and “R’n’B” in Ipswich, as witnessed by the groups of white boys, who despite coming from a farming town in the countryside all talk like Brixton yardies, that frequent the club. It is rare that anyone could differentiate between the “women” (although “female children” would be a more apt term) that frequent this Satanic fleapit and the monsters that stand on the street corners in the nearby red light district of Portman Road as their style of dress and willingness to indulge in “a quick shag” for personal gain (although in Liquid the currency is usually Bacardi, Malibu or Archers) are identical.
Further attractions of Cardinal Park include the two drive in fast food joints who’s car parks play host to a motley collection of “modded” (a euphemism for “Made to Look Like A Box Of S**t”) hatchbacks infested with baseball cap wearing earring infested youths and their acne ridden under age bleach blonde slag girlfriends. These budding Jensen Buttons all hair round the adjoining one-way system in a Mad Max meets Trumpton extravaganza of badly tuned engines, neon lighting and cheap but loud stereo systems, hazed out on McDonald’s, Red Bull and cheap hash and ragging their tiny little insurance friendly death traps in an effort to prove their supremacy over the normal citizens who also have to use this road.
Ipswich also has a wonderful collection of council estates. In days gone by the subnormal or overly inbred offspring of Suffolk folk would be quietly shuttled off to farms to tend to cows or shovel s**t, kept away from the eyes of society. Today they get given a shingle fronted house made from fibreboard and woodglue, benefits and the right to Sky TV and to keep old furniture in their front gardens. The youths that live amongst the burned out cars, piss soaked mattresses and smashed bottles dream of being old enough to get a job in “Maccy D’s” or “BK’s” where they can singularly fail to understand even the most basic of orders and ask if you “want fries with that”, even if you have already got f*****g fries with it. Witness the marvel of the Gainsborough estate, where no policeman will venture without body armour (sad but very, very true) where the local tax and soap dodging muppets recently re-discovered their sense of civic pride and adopted a new council initiative to clean up their estate. The burned out cars were towed away, the rusting washing machines, fridge freezers and cookers were placed in the skips they should have been introduced to ten years previously, lawns were mown, glass swept away, bits of fibreboard replaced with windows once again. The week after this marvel was completed the local TV station took a camera crew and interviewed some of the newly washed and tidied residents. They were proud of their achievements and rightly so. Last week I drove through the estate and either an air freighter had exploded above the place and showered everyones front lawns in burning white goods, setting quite a few cars alight at the same time or the recessive chav gene infesting these w*****s had resurfaced. Groups of gold chained hash smoking white cider drinking twelve year olds clustered on street corners shouting abuse at anyone passing in a subhuman mongoloid tongue, spitting and for some reason holding their testicles although it is likely that if they let go someone would “twock” them.
Ah, Ipswich. I was born and raised in Ipswich, I have A-levels and drive a new car which I have not seen the need to stick a Cosworth whale tail spoiler on, my house is tidy, I do not own a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, a sovereign ring or a Kiss FM R’n’B Compilation. Neither do any of my friends. So what happened? I lament at the sad decline into chavdom which has befallen my town. Given the opportunity and sufficient firepower I would cheerfully massacre these pervasive cancer-like inbred socially inept subhuman knuckle scraping every other word is f**k constantly breeding STD ridden chain smoking benefit draining selfish pond life shitheads en masse and probably grin whilst doing it.
Chavs? I hate chavs.


Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Where can I start. With a town with so much history this corner of once sleepy Suffolk has steadily degenerated beyond belief over the last ten years. All the once cool shops have gone only to be replaced by tacky cheap chain shops that supply 11 year old truant chavs and their 29 year old granny’s with all the slagiest R’N’B stylie gear they’ll ever need. Other places of great mystery and intruige are the social ‘drop in’ centres for doley chav’s and pikes to seek advice on making sure they get the most form the generous benefits system as well as checking their gender, orientation etc. Well we’ve got to look after these poor soles haven’t we…. yeah right!

The Creme De La Creme chav hangout is the 24 hr ‘raceway’ circuit around Commercial Road. At night this is a powerhouse of stupidly customised p***y cars hammering around the Indy 500 style track with cars overloaded with school age chav teens thrash the s**t out Citreon Saxo’s in order to do the 1/4 mile circuit quicker than their chav mates. The ‘Pit-stop’ is fast food heaven known as ‘Cardinal Park’ On average there are 2 chav related serious assaults here per month here. On average Ipswich sees around 2 murders per year all of which are druggy booze chav related. The town centre really is to be avoided at night especially if you are on your own and you end up in one of the poorly lit side streets. The papers are low on content when it comes to reporting chav related incidents as you would expect but the p***y photo’s tell the grim chavy truth. The latest space filler is pictures of extreme chavs and their redneck families speaking out at the ‘unfair’ dishing out of anti-social behaviour restraining orders to try and curb these hell raising little baseball cap clad shits that are making people’s lives a misery.

The main drag through Ippo is a sight to behold. During weekdays it is awash with unwashed chavs most look really olde for their age. The market sells out of date veg, and those bloody T-shirts with wolves heads on!!! If you ever have time the open top ‘sightseeing’!!!! tour of Ipswich is pure gold. It takes in all the major council estates of which their are 5 and boy are they huge! Expect to see the chavy remains of burnt out cars, shops and fat druggy chavs sitting on the grass verges drinking 2 litre bottles of white lightning cider – I kid you not. Me and the Mrs go for a cruise around these hell holes just for a laugh. There’s always something new to laugh at. We should be careful though as they are starting to recognise our nice clean car.

Come to Ipswich and check it out…. You’ll be in chav heaven.


Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Suffolk, United Kingdom

Like just about any town in Great Britain, Ipswich has more than it’s fair share of Chavs. For some reason they seem to congregate around the college, despite the fact that none of them seem to do any work there.

Ipswich also has more than it’s fair share of Chavvy drivers. There’s a double laned oval piece of road in the middle of the town, known as the “D’s”. On any given night you will find badly modified Novas and Fiestas going round and round and round. The fact that the area is surrounded by car parks, a Motorworld, and a Maccy-D’s just down the road make it a haven for the driving Chav. When they’re not driving they are sure to be found in one of the car parks “blastin their choonz” and shouting abuse at passers by.

The streets are infested with blank faced losers in their stupid hats, cheap bling, and crappy sportswear, wandering around aimlessly, and occasionally in and out of McDonalds.

So Ipswich, yet another point on the Chav map. The only thing we can be greatful for is that at least it’s not as bad as Felixstowe…