What can be said about Harlow that hasn’t already been said before? Well did you know that Harlow has the highest % of teenage pregnancies in England, therefore in Europe. Hardly surprising given that there’s nothing else for the young chav’s and chavettes to do except sniff glue and shag.
When I first arrived at Harlow College, ready to begin my years journalism training, I was blissfully unaware of the delights that awaited me. The college is an eye-opener in itself. It offers highly respected academic courses such as car mechanics, which are a great grounding for the young chav before he embarks on his career knicking peoples stereos and alloy wheels. During lunch time, the colleges entire chav populace descends on the canteen, where you can buy shitty lard burgers and laugh at the mentally handicapped students. Yes actual mentally handicapped students go to the college too, and it is something of a chav sport to sit on the tables and take the piss out of them in order to impress the chavettes from the hair and beauty course. The irony of these dimwits calling other people retards is obviously lost on them. Possibly the most worrying thing is that the teachers (most of whom are grown up chavs who only teach at the college because no one else wants to) also take part.
Unplanned fire drills are also a daily part of college life. Usually this is because some chav idiot is smoking weed in the toilets, or because they’ve smashed one of the fire alarms as ‘a larrrf’. Yeah, it’s hilarious to have to go and stand outside in the middle of some chavvy estate in the rain for 20 minutes while you wait for the fire engines, you stupid unfunny twats.
Moving across Velizy Avenue you enter the towns shopping centre, which resembles a scene from a George Romero film. The people who aren’t zombies are usually old or pushing burberry clad babies to the DSS office to collect their various benefits. I don’t know how much money is spent on benefits in Harlow but I would imagine it runs into millions. As a result the town centre is at its busiest on a Monday lunchtime when all the chavs are out in force, spending our hard earned cash getting pissed up (presumably to try and forget what a pitiful existance they lead) or buying fake sports goods from the market. When I lived there Harlow Council were always banging on about the Harlow2020 project, which would see lots of modern art erected around the town. Of course what the council failed to take into account is that as soon as it is put up some chavvy c**t will come along and spray graffitti on it, or litter it with Maccy D’s wrappers. Culture and Harlow mix about as well as John Prescott and diplomacy.
On a Friday night the chavs congregate at the usual chav hangouts, Weatherspoons, Yate’s, Chicagos etc before progressing to Fat Jaks, the worst night club in the world. The more upmarket chav might push the boat out and go to Destiny, famous for being frequented by Michael Barrymore. I think that says all you need to know about the dive.
I could go on. I’ve never been anywhere else where they put security guards on the busses at night for the drivers protection, and I could regale you with stories such as the time a friend of mine brought a local lass home for a night of fun, and woke up the next morning to find she’d pissed on the floor before exiting.
Since leaving Harlow I’ve lived in chav strong holds such as Eltham and Bromley, but they both seem like paradise compared to that god-forsaken s**t hole. Avoid at all costs!