Written by Anonymous.

I cannot believe that the official No1 crap town in the UK, Kinston Upon Hull, or “Ull” as it is fondly referred to by the Chavs, does not make it into your top ten list of iLiveHere. Hull to Chavs, is what the Sargasso sea is to eels, one endless spawning ground. The Petri dishes of Hull’s sprawling council estates have incubated strains of gutter life previously unknown to mankind. The living hell of the many decent folk, who are forced to endure these cesspools, is unimaginable.

The female Chav in Hull, usually comes into season at the age of eight & can typically pump out four or five Chavlings by the time she is rendered infertile by chlamydia at twenty. Hull’s record holding (worse in the country sir!) education system then takes over, & can turn out a fully fledged Chav or Chavette by the typical expulsion age of 13. By this time, the more promising ones will have acquired no useful legal life skills whatsoever, & more ASBOs than Michael Schumacher’s podium count.

As soon as a Chavs parents can obtain no more child benefit payments, the young Chav is sent out to make its own way in the world. In the past, a large proportion would get a job on a ship & thankfully drown at sea. However, with Hull’s decline as a major port this is no longer an option. So apart from the odd “Lovable rouge” who gets blown away by an irate citizen with a sawn-off, or crashes his s**t heap into a tree while pissed, the cycle starts all over again.

These days, a fully developed Chav’s life starts at the Ferensway dole office. A major Chav hangout.

On obtaining his first giro, a young Hull Chav’s first priority is to obtain some permanent transport of his own from the local scrap yard. For less than the proceeds of two muggings, a basic untaxed & uninsured Vauxhall Astra or Nova can be procured. With a spot of twocing for spares, a cheap body kit, & a Halford’s sound system, a Chav can have a ride to be proud of. It is alleged that the local Halfords branch will accept DHSS giros for a small handling fee.

Nothing annoys a Hull Chav more, than the sight of an asylum seeker strutting down the road with a mobile telephone to his ear & a fat lass on his arm. Asylum seekers are actually displacing Chavs in some parts of the city. Thus the Chav motorist society turned it’s efforts away from organizing city centre road racing, to mowing down asylum seekers for fun. This Chav passtime has come to a halt of late, when a crown court judge took a very dim view of the practice, & threw away the key on two Chavs who had scored a respectable ten pointer. This came as a major surprise, to the hapless Chavs, who were expecting probation or better still, community service, with its opportunities to blag old biddies savings while doing a spot of gardening.

This is just a mere taster of what Hull has to offer a Chav. The city’s benefit teat supplies all they want, & more beside. I kid you not dear reader, J.D.Weatherspoon pubs, fast food emporiums & pound shops literally line the streets of Hull. The pavements are truly lined with fake bling. On a Saturday night, a Chav can have ten pints, a f**k & a fight & still stagger home with change from a £20 note.

One last tip for visiting Chavs. Hull also has a unique barter system in the form of the Craven Park market / car boot sale. Here, Chavs can obtain fake designer gear & trade in the former property of honest folk, don’t miss it.

With all the above, is there any wonder they never leave?







Top 10 worst places to live in England 2018