My friend Marc had this to say about his home town.. “Leicester (also known as ‘Lesta’) is one of the fastest growing chav cities in the UK. An average of 10 children per hour switch from baggy trousers and Linkin Park hoodies to Adidas track suits and Nike sweatshirts because it’s ‘well safe man innit’. The rebirth of the teenybopper skaters is over, and shopping at Reveal whilst accessorising with T-bars from Argos is the new in-thing. Referred to as ‘townies’ or ‘dodgites’, these scrounging Stella-drinking folk are born on council estates in areas of Hinckley, Beaumont Leys, Ayres Monsall, Braunstone, Thurmaston, St. Matthews and many more.
A Leicester chav/chavette will start their day by waking up after 11am, thus missing the start of school/work/’This Morning’. They spark up a faaaag and sit in bed watching ‘The Box’ or ‘Kiss’ or any other tacky music channel that shows 50 Cent and Eminem videos. When they get bored of the tv, they head to the bus stop, stopping off at the off-license on the way to pick up a few cans of Stella, or White Lightening if their dole money is running a bit low. At the bus stop, they drink whatever they’ve just bought whilst vandalising what’s left of the bus stop’s smashed windows. The drinking and vandalising continues on the back seat of the bus, where you can find previous markings such as ‘nick 4 danielle 4eva’, ‘james finley iz a batty boy’ or ‘kelly luvz tupac’. When the graffiti is finished, they spark up another faaaag and spit on the floor.
Once arrived in the city centre, first stop is Sports Soccer to by crap sports clothes and trainers. Nike trainers with air bubbles are not as expensive here as in JJB, and the saved money can be used to purchase socks, boxers and t-shirts – all Donnay brand of course. Next stop is the clock tower, to hang around the phone boxes and talk about whom they beat up in the past week, and which girl they fingered in the bushes last night. The clock tower is also a well-recognised meeting point, and is used for chavettes to bring over their babies to their fathers.
The chav will then offer to take chavette et many children out for a (happy) meal, as a sign of good will for not visiting the chavette and her many kids for at least a month. Outside McDonalds are more fellow chavs. These chavs are the Asian chavs. They aren’t as scummy as regular chavs, but the fact that the stand outside McDonalds all day every day saying “innit” does nothing for them. If they’re not standing outside McDonalds, then they’re handing flyers to people outside McDonalds, usually for Voodoo and Creation.
Inside McDonalds, the chavette moans at the chav for not visiting and not giving any her any of that well-earned dole money for her children and nicotine addiction. She also questions the chav on his sexual antics with her best friend, her sister and her mother. He denies it, but then is overheard blagging to his mate on the way back from the crapper, saying, “Her mam’s minge was a right bucket innit”.
The chavette storms out and heads to Argos to buy cheap gold to make her feel better. She then heads to Superdrug to shoplift, before realising that she’s left her kids in McDonalds, but they can fend for themselves since Mother Dearest taught them the three simple rules:
Use Maccy D’s as a meeting point.
Steal a car, but don’t get caught by the pigs.
Be home before 6(am).
After being thrown out of Superdrug for shoplifting (again), the chavette heads to Poundland to steal cheap beauty products which she uses in the Haymarket toilets to get ready for a big night out. A big night out for a chav will consist of a trip to The Churchgate pub, followed by dancing and a fight at Creation. If the chav is feeling a little bit classy, they might head to the pub The Parody and then on to Lloyds. If a chav isn’t totally wankered, has gotten into a fight in a club and been thrown out, gotten into another fight outside and nearly been arrested, followed by a kebab at TJ’s, then it was a s**t night.
In the taxi home to their council flat, they will repeatedly try and spark up a faaaag even though there are no smoking signs and the Arab taxi driver has said not to smoke a number of times, thus the chav is kicked out and has to walk home. This actually works to an advantage, since there is the high possibility of a rendezvous with another fellow chav, which consists of the chavette “getting licked out” in the bushes. At 5am, the chav finally gets home, and watches ITV job hunt, whilst saying, “What the f**k is a f*****g secretarrie?!”. Eventually they fall asleep, fag in hand, and the process begins again…