It is clear as soon as you step out of Luton Central Station that everyone who lives there are in fact the spawn of Satan. As well as the usual accessories of jewellery, fake burberry clothes (they can’t afford the real stuff in Luton) the chavgirls have to have a pushchair with a small demonic child wailing in said pushchair. The parentage of the child is irrelevant, it could be stolen off the street, however, if they have a child its instant street cred. Clearly, the younger the chavgirl with the pram the cooler she is because she put out at a younger age because shes obviously a “dirty bitch”.
The chavs like to hang out in various places but the Arndale Shopping Centre is a particular favourite. A group of chavs stand in a massive circle taking up most of the walkway in the Arndale and refuse to move. The more intimidating (if indimidating means looking dim) the look on the face the more they feel they “run tings, tings don’t run dem.”
In their spare time they like to park in car parks in their souped up s**t cars beeping at passing cars in order to race them. Anyone that does not respond is a pussy. It goes without saying that the winner of the race not only has to come first but skid around and make as much noise as possible.
When unwinding they go to the infamous Chav chain Yates to “grind and wind” with randoms they meet to pretend dancehall and rnb. Club time comes around and they head off to Space. If someone hasn’t been stabbed by the end of the night then severe disappointment ensues. The disappointment is lifted a little if the chavgirl takes off her stillettos and threatens to stick it in another minger’s eye.
And yes, its so bad Wife Swap is currently recruiting here. Wicked.