Ah, Lancing, the in-bred town of Pikeys.
Beside having the inability to park a car unless opposite another vehicle, completely blocking the road, there are lots of things going on in Lancing.
Like the Mothers Meetings outside Freshbrook school. I mean, like they havent got loads of other things to do. Washing? Ironing? Cleaning? Oh no. I forgot. Their Chavs. And so are their children. They live on the council estates, and don’t bother to clean up. They drop the kids off to school (not because they want them to get an education…no. It’s so they can jack up in peace) then, they stand outside the gates talking to one another, for absolutely ages, and then go for coffee in the cafe, and then go home when the rush has worn off, so the can jack up again.
Then there is a post office. I was standing patiently in a que, along with many other people, and this chavvish old granny walked up to the counter and said the lady ‘I’m sorry but can you serve me now, because I’ve got a taxi outside and I can’t walk, because I have a bad leg.’ Whats the deal with that?! ‘I’m sorry I broke a finger. Can you serve me my food first please?’ It’s not just the latest generations who are chavs.
At night (which I don’t really know that much about because I daren’t venture out) the Mothers Meeting’s kids all sit around outside the Co-Op, Alldays, or the train station. At this point some poor person who has no choice but to walk past them, gets kebab thrown at them, or chips, and it’s even been known for them to throw an opened bottle of water.
I have to say that this has to be one of the most Chavish towns.