Imagine a town where loving families flock during the summer to enjoy wholesome activities, eat ice-cream, visit the world famous Tower and ballroom or perhaps just relax on the beach while the young’uns play in the sand. Or you could just visit Blackpool. Take a typical weekend evening. When chavs from out of town aren’t obscuring your view with their half-naked left-their-s**t-for-brains-at-home behaviour you might just spy a few of the many many local ratboy chavs that are out on the make. Generally on a mission to ‘tax’ the said out-of-towners. Not a bad thing in principle, but it only serves to make the little buggers stronger. As you can imagine the usual kiss me quick hats are replaced with burberry and I’m not sure, but it’s possible that the fashion genius that is The trackie-pant-tucked-into-comedy-sock-exposing-new-rockports-what-mum-got-me may have originated in Blackpool itself!! Maybe not, but I sure like to think so. They mostly hang around any part of town which stinks of their own piss, balancing on nicked bikes, hurling insults at people and spraying amazing artworks informing passers-by of their shagging status.
I would just like to finish your tour with a description of the Filthy Charver Family from hell that live next door to a mate of mine. when the dogs aren’t barking and howling because they’re outside in the rain standing in their own faeces, it’s the chav fishwife screaming at the baby-chav, obviously to instill those good old fashioned family values we just don’t appreciate nowadays. Of course none of them have jobs (don’t be silly now, what else is DLA for?) but you can be cock-sure they have Sky TV and a plasma screen!