Town centre on a saturday morning…surrounded by tacky, illiterate, in-bred, hand-in-boxers low- IQ, morons. think they are hard, always tryin to start a fight, despite the fact that they approximately 5 feet tall and weigh about as much as a small goat. What damage do they really expect to be able to do in such puny body.
I can barely understand them, its like they have their own language, where words are squashed together to make new words, which are slurred because the chav scum are either pissed or stoned.
”shattap” roughly translated means ‘be quiet’ i guess.
when confronted about their lack of intelligence and chav appearance i hear the same arguement…
”i aint a chav!”
me- There is no such word as ‘aint’
me- in english please?
chav- cumonthen… i smash u up..
me- rolling in hysterics at the sight of some 13 year old kid wearing what i can only assum to be pyjamas with a bog-standard nike cap
-please just go home and take a picture of yourself
chav- yea?! or wot! i’ll smash u up bruv..
me- hehehehehe ok then go (btw im 6ft and physically bigger than them)
chav- [backing of] yea? you wait mate i’ll bang u out!!!
me – big smile on my face
–> and thats a typical saturday in Stevenage, which is a shame really because its like 5 minutes of my weekend gone again.
It’s so hard to fight the temptation to just pick one up and throw them somewhere, like in the middle of the pond where the big clock is.