This is a brief introduction to the Chavness of Liverpool, including descriptions on the local species of Chav, so you can spot and therefore attempt to avoid them…
The absolute epitome of Chavisity is Liverpool. Known for their crude language, the Scouse Chavs can spew out expletives almost as fast as they can illegitimate children, which is quite fast according to the local social services. Being from Liverpool myself, these Chavsters give us all a bad reputation, for while they are in the minority compared with the rest of (normal) Scouse society, they make up for it in their loud shouts and supposed mating calls.
The Liverpool Chav can be recognised in a number of ways:
1) The males will most certainly be wearing some form of tracksuit, probably LaCoste, with a not-so-matching pair of Rockport boots. The females usually delight in sporting the latest in Sunbed fashion (“A pound for forty five minutes? Omigod I’ll ‘ave to ‘av a go on tha’ one!”), along with something revealing, such as a social security form tucked into their miniskirt.
2) A bloke with his hand down his crotch is a dead giveaway, as is a cap in any shape or form.
3) The females often sport a post-coital bump, usually uncovered, with a fag in one hand and their favourite bottle of peroxide in the other (well how else do you explain year round bleach blond hair, with no sign of roots?)
4) Chavlings (the spawn of adult Chavs) are usually recognised on the streets between 9am and 3pm weekdays, often riding a bicycle, which has usually been stolen. Their sole purpose is to follow in the footsteps of their mothers, the fathers not usually known.
The randomness of Chav violence became apparent to me one day as I came home from Priory Medical Centre. As I was walking down Breck Road in Anfield (an area high in Chav density, low in employment), a Chavling of about fourteen passed me in the street. Admittedly I did glance at him, heaven forbid, in order to make out whether he was wearing a fake LaCoste tracksuit or not. Staring at me gormlessly, the school drop out shouted “yer fuckin fag, I’ll fuckin ‘av you” (which was highly original I thought). Not knowing whether this was a threat or a proposition, I continued towards my destination with The Chav hot on my tail. A couple of minutes later he was gone, most likely distracted by something shiny, such as a used syringe.
The pack-like mentality of Liverpool Chavs is so well spread, that every street corner in Liverpool has its own Chav clan, more often than not interbred, due to the lack of paternal knowledge. However, they are ruthless in their aspirations to find one another, seemingly gravitating towards one another, the Chavettes and the Chavsters meeting and mating to produce offspring, undoubtedly as a ticket to a life free of employment, funded by the state. This seems to be biological. I wonder if there is a Chav gene? And if so, if a foetus is known to have it, should it be grounds for abortion?
This is just a brief introduction to Chavness in Liverpool. Watch this space…