Welcome to Frome, truly the Chav jewel in this septic isle. However, Frome Chavs have fallen on hard times as whereas the ‘X’-reg Saxo or Clio is the staple of Northern Chavs, ours have to make do with ‘L’-reg Citroen AXs. I have even observed 15-year old Renault 5s hacking it over the bridge at warp factor 7. My personal favourite is a ‘J’ reg Fiesta I often see on my way to work – dodgy home made black/white paint job, big bore exhaust and fat bastard with baseball cap thinking he’s looking cool in his pile of shite. The ‘in thing’ amongst younger Chavs is to hang around outside Argos wearing your ‘Donnay special’ tracksuit and training vest, smoking and generally being a pain in the arse. Even the p***y who used to sell The Big Issue on the footbridge from the library car-park has moved on, saying ‘There goes the neighbourhood’. As always, the MaccyD’s on the industrial estate is a favourite hangout of the pre-pubescent rat-boy, whereas ‘mature’ Chavs loiter down the precinct. I went into the Post Office today and each of the young Chavettes behind the counter had grat-issue facial piercings. I nearly vomited. Every morning I awake and thank God I very rarely need to go into town these days. Besides, there’s f*ck all there when you get there anyway.