Great Yarmouth – mecca for c**v holidays!

East AngliaNorfolk

Great Yarmouth not only supports the highest concentration of C***s in East Anglia, but it is also the number 1 mecca for C**v holidaymakers! They bring down their whole bloody C**v family, Kev, Shaz and the usual 8 babies … Madison, Courtney, Brooklyn, Dean, Tracey, Kev Junior, Kev Junior 2 and they ran out of names for C**v baby number 8! There’s only one road into Yarmouth and there’s no overtaking for 20 miles. Imagine the frustration in the summer when you’re stuck behind an endless line of chavmobiles going 4 miles an hour. In the fields you can see the cows s**t themselves because of the heavy vibrations from their CD decks! The side of the road is littered with failed MOT cars that did not make it all the way to Yarmouth, broken glass where they extracted their 40’ woofers and Halfords $2.99 chipped hub caps.

It’s a hard life being a C**v, that’s why for 1 week a year they save up a few giro’s and take a week off. With the amount of choice available these days to holiday abroad, only a C**v would order a brochure on Great Yarmouth and sign up for a classy week of donkey s***e, deep fried lard take-away, partying hardcore at the Long Bar (apparently the longest bar in the UK – or perhaps the longest line of twats in the UK), hilarious puking and pissing on street corners, trying to shag a 14 year old or 50 year old c******e, and watching the Norfolk C**v grand-prix along the seafront every night!

So every summer Argos has to double the order of fake gold chains and hire linguists who can translate pointing, grunting and a string of obscenities in to sense. Example: ‘Shaz, get yer f**kin a**e over here and take a squiz at this f**kin f**k f**k!’ probably means that Kev has just spotted a $9.99 fake gold identity bracelet for that special lady in his life. For the swarv C**v, there’s Regent Road, not to be mistaken for Regrent Street in London. It’s a mix of dodgy jewellers, donut shops, fake designer clothing, and of course a few gun shops. They don’t accept visa, but you can probably use your giro or the grannies pension book you just stole using the newly acquired 12 bore shot gun.

Sadly for the Chaving holidaymakers, the quality 1 star b&b’s in Yarmouth now house the DSS C**v locals. Even with 90% of Yarmouth being council houses, the C**v’s need more space. So they built a massive holiday camp called ‘Vauxhall’ on the edge of the Town. You can see it as you drive into Yarmouth, that’s if the smoke from burnt out cars doesn’t obstruct your visibility. Over the road from the Vauxhall holiday camp is Asda. That’s where the C**v holidaymakers spend most of their holiday, getting their kids to shop lift, buying their Royals, pizza’s, alcopops, diamond whites, pregnancy kits, and pebble dashing the disabled toilets. Asda specially built some seats outside so the C**v tourists can admire the local Yarcos (Yarco’s are the local pikies) go round and round the car park at 3mph playing some choice tunes. When they see a speed bump they accelerate their fake XR2 (a Fiesta L with stickers and a welded on spoiler) and are amused by the clattering sound their exhaust makes as it hits the bump. It’s actually quite hard to see it accelerate with 5 C***s in the back seat, all the sound system gear and knocked off TV and Videos in the boot – not DVD players as they haven’t been introduced to backward Yarmouth yet – I s**t you not!

You can imagine what the Vauxhall holiday camp is like – it’s packed with C***s from all the other bloody C**v towns in the UK! It’s like an annual convention of C***s, where they can show off the latest fashions of highly flammable le coq sportif shell suits or Ben Sherman shirts. Naturally the C**v dad goes for the Fat Willy vest, a pair of shorts (which look like boxer shorts – high probability they are), and some classic white C**v reeboks (so white, they look like they were just stolen). Anyway, they swop their council house for a 20 year old static caravan, which has all the same comforts of home –soiled mattresses, noisy neighbours (inc. kids crying after being smacked senseless or C***s shouting “fuckin’ turn the telly over will yer, Corra is on!”), satellite TV, a freezer large enough to store a months worth of frozen chips, and an old mini outside with the engine missing.

When they’ve either been banned from Asda or had to much to drink, they break out of the holiday camp and navigate a shopping trolley up the dual carriageway and into the Town Centre. 1st stop the Market Gates, a concrete 70’s shopping centre which has seen better days. Half the shops are closed, and the rest are selling mainly frozen food. Mothercare are still there, and I think there’s probably a Poundland, Iceland, Nettos and Halfords (all the classic C**v outlets under one roof). If they haven’t been blinded by their white trainers or intoxicated by the amount of cider they brought in Iceland, they then proceed to the high quality eateries. Sir has the choice of McDonalds or KFC (next to each other), eating in or standing outside making a tit of yourself pulling faces at locals on the bus. Can be bit of a dangerous area, as you can slip on the milk shake which is all over the pavement.

If that wasn’t enough excitement for one day then it’s down to the Sea Front. Quite a few things to do for the C**v tourist here. Number 1 on their priority list is to make a visit to the Long Bar, normally all day karaoke or endless video hits on the big screen. They have it loud as the C**v’s have nothing to talk about. It’s wall to wall football shirts here, and my advice is to stick to the West Ham shirt and avoid eye contact. Normally you can hear a few cries of “did you spill me fuckin’ pint!” After 15 pints of Carling and a grope of Shazza’s tits, they normally stumble out with puke down their shirts. Now they want a few laughs. Options are to punt away the giro on the slotties, throw lager cans at the Seagulls, or head to the Pleasure Beach or Joyland. Joyland is for toddlers and it’s a better laugh for them, as they can terrorise 5 year olds on the Snails ride, usually by pulling moonies and flicking their fag butts.

Well, that about sums up a C**v holiday in Great Yarmouth … if you’re on social and injury benefits we look forward to seeing you soon!


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