BICESTER: A Townplanner’s Recipe for Accelerated Construction of a Chavopolis
Take one tiny Oxfordshire market town full of yokel inbreds and build a forlorn 1960s shopping precinct adjacent to a “traditional high street.” Add six characterless, featureless estates (hard to spot behind the satellite dishes and, from early October to January, the flashing neon Santas and sleighs) and fill with whitetrash, employed by local prisons and armed services. Leave to spawn- usually takes 3 minutes.
Improve “connections” by rail and motorway and stir in two appalling secondary schools and a woodbuilt “faux Scandinavian” retail outlet, misnamed Bicester Village. Fold in hundreds of trolley wallys, sales and marketing s**m and a smattering of corpulent, fuckwit security staff. Decorate with ring-road , sprinkled with over-alloyed Renault 5s, Novas, Saxos and Puntos, complete with glittering neons and the dull thud of “my subs is badder than yours” competitions. The final touch is to threaten to house thousands of asylum-seekers within spitting distance (1500 metres for Bicester man) of the town. Leave ten minutes and wait for “Take –these-darky-wop-terrorist-f*****s-out-of-my –cesspit” placards to rise.
Each evening local s**m will emerge from the estates and swarm towards the village to buy bargain brands. They return grinning, festooned in “designerware” (Burberry, Helly Hansen and TKMuck) ready for 10 pints, followed by a fight with a non-Caucasian.
Bicester C***s can be seen prowling the high street, humming Sean Paul and Fifty Cent tunes with baseball hats akimbo and vomit-flecked pastel shirts. After two or three circuits, they will find a bus shelter to trash or car door to scratch with 5 carat bling.
Chavettes, recognised by shoals of acne and lollops of fat, sagging wherever gravity will allow, enjoy races. Once the thrill of trying to have sex at a younger age than their mothers (13/14) fades, they try to outdo their peers by being first to “miss their period”- until they realise that too many of them haven’t reached puberty. When Dwayne or Charmaine arrive, they start to half-heartedly apply the RSPCA A dog is for Life not Just for Christmas slogan to their situation. Unfortunately their boyfriends reverse it and leave to take their SATS exams.
Burger King and Little Chef on the ring road.
Community College situated ,appropriately, between Police Station and Magistrates Court. Modern building, peopled by chavscum, mismanaged by an octogenarian turkey, oblivious to reality. Cooper School slightly friendlier but equally dense yobs led by generally harmless teachers: the bland leading the blind.
Hello – C**t!
See you- F**k off!
Nice to see you- What the f**k are you staring at? Wanna make sumfing of it?