The city of Nottingham thrives on it’s reputation as being “one of the best cities in the World.” According to whom, we aren’t quite sure… but you can hear it being said by proud local radio DJs and see it in the very manner of some of the local residents of the city, most notably the chavs who seem to feel the wearing of the traditional chav uniform is that little bit more privileged as it may have been bought from one of the ‘many’ trendy shops in this ‘trendy’ city.
Panorama featured the chav-infested city centre in a late night documentary in Autumn 2004. Aloof yobs rule the streets of Nottingham at night and the steps taken to prevent the continued rise of social disorder in the ‘famous old city’ (been listening to those radio DJs again!) include the banning of hen parties and stag dos.
But that only solves part of the problem. The city centre is indeed a dangerous place to be at night but no more pleasant on the eye during the day. The self-importance of some of the locals knows no bounds whatsoever… walk around the fashionable areas of town, that’s what they like to call them, and you are likely to come across a wide range of chavs. From the McDonalds (where else?) in the centre of the city to the two shopping centres, Nottingham’s chav population is on the rise.
It finally dawned on me just how bad the problem was when I was waiting to meet a friend in the Market Square, the biggest in England (the market place that is, not my friend). The sound of skateboards clattering and the gruff tones of the chavs – “wotyer on abahht?” or “ah ain’t got no moneh” made the bus journey out of the place seem more and more appealing.
That was until we arrived at the Bus Station at the arse end of the Victoria Centre. More Burberry than any of the ‘fashion’ outlets in the entire city combined was seen just in the queue for the bus to Sutton(?) alone. Chavs clearing their disgusting, heavily cigarette tarred throats, onto the floor and more foul and offensive language than a night with Wayne Rooney and Bernard Manning in Blackpool was more that we had to endure before we finally took our seats on the bus. As for some of the places we passed on our way out of the place,… I think they have to be seen to be (dis)believed.