Once a fairly tidy town, where men and women could once easily stroll, saying hello to fellow Asfordians. Then my eyes opened up to the true horrors of living a decent life.
Ashford, whilst not a massive town, has its fair share of council estates (and therefore, the social parasites which are spawned out of them). These parasites probably need no description for those of you experienced enough to be able to pick out the decent human being from a line-up of ‘the decent human being, a chav, and a destruction-spreading piece of crap’. Like Bees to honey, these chavs (or destruction-spreading pieces of crap) swarmed all over our town, the only place to seek refuge being the library (yes, even the local police station is not safe anymore).
I worked part-time at the local woolworths for a couple of years, and it was during this time that the true bloodsucking, society-crushing extent of the chav was revealed to me. After stopping off to beat up the asian shop-assistants in the local Co-op, and then stocking up on as much Greggs food as possible (normally dependent on how much money they can scrounge/beg/steal/borrow), they would eventually pour into Woolworths and head straight for the pic-n-mix – 2 fifty year old under-paid women staff left to try and defend the sugar-coated goodness from what can only be described as a bunch of smoke-spewing, spit-swilling, addidas-clad “things”. Chavs wearing hats/hoodies can on occasion be scared off by weilding ones superior intelligence (i.e – IQ of 35+), but skin-headed chavs — (once chavs look old enough to buy booze, it is traditional for their hair to be completely removed, and normally the application of some kind of tatoo – either real or rub on [predominantly chavs choose the latter]) — have the aim of graduating to the nearest young-offenders institute or prison, and so are not as easily tackled.
As soon as the street-lights come on, every human being quickly hurries back to the relative safety of their homes, while the streets fill up with chavs aged from 12 years and up. Shrieking from the chavettes, complemented by the yelling of the chavs gives a forewarning to the night ahead – in the local pubs Stella Artois is the fuel on demand. By 11pm, most of the younger rif-raf has dispersed – the offlicence refusing to sell them cigarettes so instead they head back to the council estate where graffitiing and vandalism will suffice as entertainment enough – however, the skin ‘eds, after drinking all of their benefits away, stumble out onto the street, looking for a person to kill/car to steal/house to rob/chavette to impregnate.
In all my experiences of chavs/townies/scallies/w*****s, i have come to beleive that this ‘breed’ of mammal is not human – they have their own specific dress, dialect and rituals – and as such they should not be treated as humans. Instead, they should be contained, and scientifcally studied by the government until EVERYONE realises that they add nothing to society (in fact they destroy every righteous part of it), and so must be exterminated. Thankyou.