Guiseley fifteen years ago was a lovely place, the streets were clean, birds sang in the trees and you could leave your back door open without fear of robbery.
Then McDonalds (always a good place to spot chavs), KFC and Burgerking opened up franchises, Guiseley got a ‘retail’ park (complete with two discount shoe shops so chavs and their offspring can be shod in the finest white plastic trainers, a discount sports goods place majoring in kappa and timberland clothing) and all the streets now reverberate to the sound of a hundred heap of s**t novas with their wide bore exhausts and tired engines.
Guiseley even has its own ‘racing crew’, the westside racing chavs; all of whom seem to own lowered, blacked out and body kitted up novas or corsas (lowered so their withered weakened limbs can propel them into their leather look bucket seats and darkened to hide their pasty faces from the glare of the harsh yorkshire sun) which congregate in the retail park carpark of an evening blasting out their ‘choons’ and being a downright menace on the local A road which runs through town.
There’s usually a crash a week on the road outside of the retail park due to some burberry capped fool being unable to grasp the fact that his rusty old nova will not brake like a lancer evo VII even if it does have a DIY body kit, big exhaust and some insurance invalidating perfomance ‘mods’ fitted.
Not being a chav is not tolerated, many a time it has been necessary to have slipped on a shell suit top, 3 sovereign rings and overgreased my hair under a borrowed baseball cap just to avoid being harrassed by a group of chavs outside of the local primary school on a friday night. Its not the individual chavs you have to worry about, they’re quite harmless, its when they either get behind the wheel of a car or congregate in numbers (trying to build a sentence between them) to drink frosty jack, white lightning or MD 20/20.
In short if your ever down the A65 between leeds and ilkley of an evening pop into guiseley. Its ace.