Go down any street and you’ll see spitting, shoving, slapping and complete fighting…And that’s just the parents. The young ‘uns will crawl out of their holes at night in blinding whiter than white outfits and tend to “work”, be this graffing(graffitiing) cars, kicking wing mirrors or shouting obscenities at the corner shop. I dare you to walk down Garrison Lane in a tuxedo and coming out without a spot of damage. By day they travel on the said bus ride to Kingston using their Oystercards. The chavos will arrive at the rut in the evening with a “Mackeydees” while the chavettes come back with 86 pairs of stilettos, tacky denims, crop tops, looped earrings and a Croydon Facelift. All from Primark of course. Until the next day, they will spend the time getting hammered, barred from ecery pub in town, getting back in, getting barred agein and fleeing before the police arrive 2 hours later. Happy days for them.
Come summertime, floods of these c***s will head to Chessington World of Adventures and hang around outside because they can’t afford to get in. At least they can spend a day constructively by picking old tickets up and trying to sneak through. For the lucky ones that have an Annual Pass (that the mother got at £30 instead of £45 because she told the pass assistant her children were 11 instead of 14), no rides for them! They will all hang around the Fun Fort Amusement Centre to the displeasement of the public. Now I’m a casual gambler, but can I please f*****g play a Fruit Machine without Cunty McBollock F**k and his mates watching over me shoulder, telling me to “Nudge this ‘ere, yeah…no, it din’t work!” I once had someone no more than 9 looking over me, gave him a “look” and he wandered away.
With an attitude to belt up the side of the head and then to an Irish jig on top of, they think they can get away with anything. And they do exactly that. But don’t you try to do the aformentioned Belting Irish Jig idea on one, because the bobbies will only want your a**e after the “but I’m just a sweet little boy” excuse. More like “I’m a f*****g little s**t in a bastard outfit who has just written off that Mercedes.”
If I were you, I’d bring back the 70s after watching Life on Mars, seeing the c***s benig booted around by the Law. Oh, and I’d air that too.