My night Out in Leeds.
Firstly i start off in a pub having a few drinks then what do i see three chavs walk in and blatenly they are underage. There they are with ther nike hats and swinging gold jewelery there rockports with tracky bottoms on. Then they go to the bar and get asked for ID. After this one picks up a chair and throws it across the room that is the sort of behaviour you get from chavs. After this i am finishing my pint and then a stone comes through the window (All this because they did not get served for a drink).
After this i head into town with my friends i am standing at the bus stop when a group of youths are walking are way and they were the biggest chavs you have ever seen one was wearing a burberry hat, had many piercings on his face, a fred perry jumper, tracksuit bottoms with them tucked into his socks and some nike shox.When the group walked past i looked at one then he said in a deep “put on” voice “what the f**k you looking at twat” and i thought who are you saying that to me punk. “Chaver scum”
Eventually i got into town jumping between nightclubs seeing chavs on the way when ireached majestic i was queing to get in when a chav in a fred perry shirt and sum black trainers was rejected because he wa wearing trainers. He thort he would try he luck starting a fight with the bouncer. “as if he had a chance” The bouncer just slammed him against the wall and he was escorted away by the police
When i got inside i was dancing like you do and this girl i was dancing with of course had a boyfriend. He walked over pushed me in the stomach and i was winded. You should of seen him he wa huge. With loads of lines shaved in his eyebrow with piercing on his face and i thought signs of a chav.
Eventually i got home and thought in the morning that was a nightmare being surrounded by chavs.
Kensington of the North, The UK’s Milan and England’s Barcelona are just some of the names used to describe this up-and-coming former textile town in West Yorkshire. Personally I prefer scally riddled s**t-tip. True, the bourgeoisie glory of parts of the city centre is a sight to behold, however this is a cruel aberration. Just a bricks throw from Harvey Nicks and Louis Vuitton lies an altogether much darker side. Designer chic gives way to Kappa shite. Aston Martins are replaced by souped-up Novas and bulldog-faced fat slags and their smack-head boyfriends replace the long-limbed beautiful people of the cities Milanese arcades. If ever there was a case of a sows ear masquerading as a silk purse, it’s Leeds. Underneath all the rhetoric and the snooty bars, Leeds is chavscum central. Dare to venture into the city centre after dark and you get to see the real Leeds in it’s awful, head-stomping, blood stained glory. Inebriated fat whores, eff and blind their way from trashy bar to trashy bar, while rodent-faced arsewipes hurl obscenities at couples leaving the numerous swish restaurants. Amidst all the mayhem, dozens of crackheads hide in darkened alleyways waiting to pounce jack-the-ripper like on unsuspecting revellers. A night-out in Leeds is truly a must for those case studying gratuitous violence and depraved sexual conduct. Come daybreak after all the older chavs have smashed and vomited their way home, the younger breed of chavs venture out. The delightful neighbourhoods of Beeston, East End Park and Gipton are the perfect locations to see these particularly vile specimens. Twelve year old trollops resplendent in their Lizzy Duke earrings and Mr T chains, stuff Gregs pasties into their offsprings chocolate covered mouths. Meanwhile demonic gangs of stick wielding hooded scumbags prowl the streets looking for old folk and students to rob and throw in the nearest canal. Yes, Leeds has a unique and altogether more terrifying mutation on the urban chav, the psycho chav, and be warned, these can be female as well as male, although I use the term ‘female’ rather loosely. Bump into these c*nts and you’d better be able to fight like a Rottweiler with trapped knackers or run like cheetah with a banger up it’s arse. Damien from The Omen has nothing on these arseholes.
By day it’s a bustling shopping city, friendly enough, nice places to go to. By night it’s a chav town laiden with vomit, empty bacardi bottles and shouting twunts with a fag in one hand and the latest Jentina single stolen from HMV in the other hand. These charming people piss next to the kiosks in Leeds station, mock people entering the Corner Exchange and run out of chav clubs with vomit oozing out of their fowl mouths.
A popular past-time amongst these chav packs is drunkenly walking up to thirteen year old girls in the train station and asking their parents if they can shake their hand, they then stumble away sporting their Leeds United strips (Leeds are the favourite team of chavsters, violence, Lee Bowyer it’s a chav dream team).
Little do they know that they will end up like the bums pissing into White Lightening bottles that they hurl bottles at at two in the morning. Please destroy this city.