Oswestry: their trainers and fake Fred Perry polo shirts are caked in sweat & kebabs

We’ve seen them all. ******* casually around lampposts and on small slate walls in your local area. Tastefully decked out in the latest tracksuit bottoms that have been washed with extra Daz in order to give them that brand new “I’m not poor” bright white look. Shame the trainers and the fake Fred Perry polo shirt are caked in sweat, kebabs, non alcoholic beer and a splash of mud.

They always seem to have a lovely eyebrow piercing, which is the one only way to lower your IQ by 90 points in about 3 seconds. A nice cap that cost far too much (or look like it is), equally dirty looking and angled at a good 45 degrees to allow the brain under that cheap wet look gelled hair to breath. You know the sort, the kind who’ve just stepped off Jeremy Kyle.

So what is there purpose? Seemingly, it would be to ridicule and despise and poor passer by regardless of race, religion, gender or hair colour. The one thing you can say about ***** in their favour is that they treat everyone equally. Well equally poorly. Their idea of intimidation is blurting out a flurry of four letter long expletives over and over again with the odd chant of “you starting” and mock “gangsta” lingo such as “blud” and “safe”. No. I have many friends who are black
who are very well educated and feel no need to speak in this inarticulate manner. It’s quite poor. A popular way of ridiculing any passer by is picking a feature and shouting it out loud. For example, if one has ginger hair, their idea of offending you would to be shout “ginger” whilst taking a swig out of a cola filled White Lightning bottle. Offensive indeed. The birds clad in their Bench Jackets and skirts up to their bottoms seem to find all this hilarious, despite any distinct lack of wit or construction to their insults.

Of course when they are all out of insults and cola white lightning, their idea of fun is to either kick a fanta can round a concrete using two baseball caps that keep blowing away for goalposts or resort to the monstrosity that is Bebo. Ah Bebo. This is the site to what I believe to be the cause for Britains current illiteracy problem. Where many young children come together to pose and take semi naked pictures of themselves whilst spelling everything incorrectly using ill advised and tasteless acronyms such as “HTID”. Many of them also claim to be in “Hooligan Firms” which you just think “No. you’ve seen Green Street once and threw a mates trainer at someone who supports Man United instead of Arsenal”.

That brings me nicely onto Boy racers. Cars. Well not cars, more kennels on wheels. The Renault Clio for example. Thats a **** car so why not stick an extra tonne of plastic attachments to weigh it down and affect the performance even more. No. There is no need to play your latest Clubland 4 CD whilst chucking a bag of chips out of the window with the optional McFlurry carton and Half drunk Chocolate Milkshake.

The music

On the phones is just as annoying. Lets all stand under a lamppost just as its getting dark and then play poor happy hardcore ‘choonz’ out of a tinny blown out speaker on a Samsung. No.

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