Yes folks, the dreamland experience of Middlesex is on full display in the heartlands of Chav-urbia, Harrow. The bus station is just the start of the cultural hi/low lights of the magical mystery tour that you too could be taking in…….follow me
You would have to get the bus of course because some scabby little P***y scummer will have nicked your wheels within minutes of entering the borough – if your really unlucky they will have nicked the whole damn car – so keep your car rollin’ – even over the pavements if necessary.
The town centre is the usual bolt together pseudo Mall wonderland, all the essential Chav options are available sandwiched in between the inevitable Yates’ Wine Lodge (Get a grip – WINE? Whine more like, ‘Kev, you said yer would pull it arrrrt befowa you come you c**t’, I’m only 12 and I can’t be bovverd to fil the socshal forms in for anuver Baby.’) and the Chav come Asian teen hangout of the Cinema. Greggs shite on a stick for fat Deb’s n Trace’s with kids is a worthwhile visit for getting stocked up on Heart stopping crap in pastry Chavsnaks before making along the arcade, dodging the Immigrants selling mobile phone clip-ons and f**k knows what from mobile carts whilst Chav offspring try to snatch what they can and run back to their bloated mothers.
Just the pure number of mobile shops should give any respecting non Ben Sherman wearing soul a clue to the towns true identity. Asian kids playing hard (just tell them you’ll tell their mum – they run scared) and scrawny spotty mean faced Chavs and Chavetts gobbing all over the place and f*****g behind the bins (behind the HSBC) are some of the sights that are worth taking in before you reach the Chav mecca, the Zenith of Chav life – yes the ‘Disney’ shop. Here you can watch the proceeds of your stolen car sale and house robbery being squandered on flourescent ducks and other fluffy shite that reminds the Chavlings and their heavliy sweating mothers (fathers doing time since the age of 12) of the sheer heaven that Sky plus digiboxes and milti channel satellite brain food awaits them back in their hideously decorated council flats when they finally take the bus back home to waste more of your hard earnt money.
When you leave, just consider how much of your hard earned tax money the blood sucking little f*****s are raking in every week for doing sweet FA except getting up the stick at some early teen age and doing pills on a Saturday morning. Tell them this, inform them as they stagger out of BHS and all of the other low budget pile em high shops, loaded with bags ,that the money they just spent is your money – your taxes, ask them to thank you – then run.
I hate Chavs – can we bomb them all? Lets start at Harrow.