The concrete tower blocks of oakham imprison you like a rat in a steel cage. The streets are littered with syringes, the foul stench of rotting food fills the air, spilling from black bin liners like the pus oozing from the abscesses of Oakham’s sordid smackhead inhabitants. This is hell on earth.
Or, I am chatting complete bollocks.
Oakham infact is a tiny little market town, situated in Rutland (the smallest, and possibly lamest, county in Britain.) To everyone who is still bewildered, it is near leicester. Anyone still bewildered, it is near Nottingham.
Its in England, ok?
Oakham consists of about 5 Taverns (thats right, Taverns not pubs), 3 charity shops and a couple of supermarkets. Yet the way these chavs carry on, you would think it was some hardcore ghetto.
The lowdown on Oakham is as follows:
First of all chavs are not called chavs, they are called Kevs here. The meaning is unclear, some say it comes from Kevin, obviously, however some suggest the word originated from Kevlaar, a hard fiberglass material thus mocking the “hard” image the Kevs of Oakham try to portray. Which is a bit difficult to do when the nearest thing to a gangland mugging to happen here is the boxing day fox hunt…
Kevs from Oakham have never really cottoned on to the whole burberry/Aquascutum/Ben Sherman craze. We are a fairly remote town, so news of fashion usually takes about 4 or 5 years to spread and catch on. I myself still wear Skousers, shrugs and have a tamagotchi watch…. Anyway, Kevs here are still into the whole Kappaslappa poppers chic. With optional Leicester City football shirt. Sexy, man. Whether female or male, the kev must have a “permawet” hairstyle, and for female kevs, a croydon facelift is most popular (this is where the hair is scraped so far back, the skin is pulled taught, thus making the kev look like they permanently on a ride at their dream holiday location – Alton Towers.)
Hangouts include the benches around Sommerfields, the Petrol station on the dirt track, (a.k.a Main Road), some scummy shitty toilet block near the church and probably most famously, the Park. Here they ride their bikes around shouting obscenities at each other and passers by, playing on/mutilating the swings and generally grafitiing and desecrating the whole area. The Park is also the place to be for the kev’s favourite pastime – war with Oakham School kids.
This needs some explanation. You see, Oakham has the misfortune of being rather small, yet having two secondary schools. Of course you would expect there to be some rivalry. But rivalry somewhat becomes magnified when one school; Vale of Catmose college (rather underachieving state school) is pitched against Oakham School (14k a year boarding school with an odd breed of new money people who think they are upper class and posh when they are really not…)
Both schools have the misfortune of having an ever increasing influx of some godawful children.
So you have the thick chav/kev in his Kappa and his Von Dutch clad Julie pitched against Mr.I love rugby in my pink shirt and sleevless jumper and Miss.I have a massive overbite and wear pashminas and pointy shoes. It’s a match made in heaven.
The fights usually start off with a bit of spitting, usually from the Kev side, and maybe a small mugging or two to get the ball rolling.
The rest, as you can imagine, is standard stuff. Kevs are very crap fighters. But they do have the advantage of wearing soverign rings and Argos gilt chains, which can come in handy.
The best time to view a fight, if anyone wants a good laugh, is when the Oakham Fair is on, and the gypsies set up camp for a couple of weeks. The dogems is the place for Kevs to chill and bill with their homies, lying in wait for the posh “Blaaaaaaaaaakes” (how Oakham School girls pronounce blokes, no they arent retarded, they just think it sounds posh, and the overbite can’t help the situation.)
Other than fighting and annoying the town’s entire population (about 95% of Oakham’s population are over the age of 55…) I am not entirely sure what the Kevs here do. They all spectacularly fail their GCSEs at the Vale of Catmose college, and then just occupy space really, its quite sad. We dont even have a MacDonalds for them to work in.
To conclude, here is a quick fire Lowdown of Oakhamian chav culture:
Generic Name: Kev
Funniest Kev name I’ve heard in Oakham: Candida. The mother probably saw her perscription for fungal ointment, liked the name, and mispelt it on her daughter’s birth certificate. Other common names include Craig, Gaz and Danielle.
Dress code: Kappa, addidas, Von Dutch, LCFC shirts. Argos bling (especially the 9ct cold bubble writing stuff, like the sovereign ring that says I LUV U.) Much hairgel. Baseball caps.
Main hangout: Oakham Park
Sworn enemy: Oakham School
Favourite cars: Corolla, Nova, old Fiesta.
Club: Bella’s (well, it’s the only one!)
Pub: Odd House Tavern (outside on the benches) or The Railway.
Job: Male: None as known. Female: Mother.
Fags: Lambert and Butler, or B&H Silver.
Idols: Jordan, The Streets, Wayne Rooney.
So this is my entry for Oakham, despite our main attractions being the Farmers Market, a few plough races and the W.I, Kevs can still adapt to these unwelcome surroundings and make their mark.