On Saturday night, chavs from all of Dirtford and surrounding areas congregated in Dartford Park to ‘distress/ terrorise’ the normal inhabitants of the land. These chavs were given away as trouble-makers by their terrible dress sense and the now-old concept of tucking the trackies into the socks. I myself am not a chav, but even I know this ancient chav fashion died long ago, but is yet still being paraded around by chavettes still thinking is is ‘cool’.
Whilst many of us non-chav folk stared in awe at possibly the worst fireworks ever displayed in public, chavs and chavettes were drinking stella, white lightning and WKD Blue, attempting to all fit into the same waltzer cart- hoping this would same them ‘bar’ (ie. money). As the fireworks exploded into their same old colours and patterns; the same as last year!, ‘whooping’ and whistling could be heard coming from the unwashed mouths of the dirty chavs.
As the fireworks ended, many chavs could be seen arguing around the ‘poor-excuse-for-a-bonfire’, apparently distressed at the burning of cardboard boxes- the most luxurious were being fought over by little chavettes who seemed to be in desperate need of new lodgings, which was obvious from their choice of fake designer clothes and 20p jewellery.
Walking through the fair, a group of 4-5 chavettes (the youngest could have only been about 9), could be heard demanding ‘gimme a fag now!’ and were hurling abuse at innocent onlookers and passers-by.
Back on the Waltzers, after the chavs had managed to squeeze from their one cart, an older lout could be seen starting a fight with yet another chav. Unsuprisingly, the youngest of the chav-crew was bragging about it, to those who were oblivious to the earlier event.
Until the next over-priced, crap-ass fair comes to town, au revoir.