Having read the article on Ilfracombe, South Molton and Minehead I found it hard to belive that Barnstaple had no listing of its own. A couple of mentions in other stories but no rant of its own! This I had to change…
Now to set the scene, Barnstaple is a s**t hole. There is f**k all to do in this place apart from get drunk, which the chavs do very well. They are found everywhere so the nickname ‘Rat Boys’ fits very well. Found fighting in Sherrys (along with everyone else), the Litten Tree (performing acts on their sisters), The Three Tuns (close to their sports shops), Weatherspoons (cheap) and they have even invaded the Cork and Bottle. A place to go for a laugh/assult is the bus station at the time of the last bus. Loads of them group together trying desperately to get home whilst half cut on cider vinegar. You will be asked for a fag/drink/fight if you have the pleasure of getting on the same bus as them, and then have to listen to them swearing, shouting and sometimes rutting on the back seats of the bus.
What makes me laugh is the image of them trying to act ‘hard’. Although I have yet to see a chav over 9 stone it doesn’t seem to affect their abilty to start a fight with anything in front of them. This includes inanimate objects like lamp posts, doors, cars and their own reflections.
One question I have trouble understanding is why do they want to be a chav? Do they really have nothing else to live for apart from day time TV, Lidl’s food, cheap fags, spitting, drinking, SPITTING!, swearing and did I mention F*****G SPITTING EVERYWHERE? What is it with spitting? I’m convinced it’s liquified brain that is slowly seeping out of their skulls as the brain breaks down due to lack of use.
For some reason the female chavs, chavettes or rat girls depending on your preference, seem to be the worst. More foul mouthed than their male brothers (more often than not also the father of their brood) they hang around off licences, like SPAR, shouting at people. Somehow the presence of a chap fag and bottle of battery acid cider gives them the ability to be a complete f*****g s**t. No in fact that’s too good for them, the thing I’m looking for to describe them has yet to be put into words and can only be expressed by smashing your head against a brick wall, acting like a gibbon and drinking yourself into a pitiful stupor.
A solution? Well the idea of hunting them is great as is nuclear warfare, although the image of a mutant chav with six spitting heads scares me. The only solution I can think of is lacing all cheap jewelery with the ebola virus and watching them all haemerrage to death. Harsh, but fair I think.