The saga continues into the local countryside….
Oh dear. Yet again Plymouth is under fire, however this is not about Plymouth as such… but is more of the effects that the Swill (what we call Chavs down here) infestation of Plymouth has done to the local area. And its not a pretty sight.
Just two years ago local towns and villages were happy, pleasant places to live in with most people getting along. Unfortunately the council then had the incredible idea that if you exported swills from their natural habitat (the city) into a rural town, it would slowly wear them down and allow the council to get rid of some trouble makers from the city. If there is one thing that I’ve learnt from that; it is to never underestimate a swill.
Hanging onto their lifestyle in an almost admirable fashion (hey, I said almost ok?) they began to breed and multiply. People who were hovering on the edge of swilldom were caught in this tidal wave of burberry covered scum and were washed away. After a year there was a sizable swill population, nothing like Plymouth but still vaguely worrying. The next year, all hell broke loose.
Being in school, I could see the transformation with a horrifying level of detail and have managed to formulate a theory on how swills create such a huge power to convert otherwise normal members of the community into their cause. They act with what can only be described as a hive-mind consciousness, none acting as a ring leader (except in the mindless beatings) but all working together in a ruthless precision that would have put the Nazi party to shame. Soon students who were happily listening to heavy metal and hardcore one minute were suddenly transformed into burberry wearing, R&B listening, cigarette smoking maniacs.
Unfortunately the council had not learnt the lesson that I had, and made the same mistake once more. The head honcho swills were moved from towns to villages where there was already a small swilly following, but lacking direction. With this new leadership thoughtful provided by the council the infestation could begin anew once more. And in these small villages, swilly culture met inbred country bumpkins and the result was not pleasant to say the least… sometimes at night you can still hear the screaming.
Suffice to say, that at the moment, I personally feel more safe wandering around Plymouth at 11:00pm than I would around the local towns. And if I do ever partake in that foolish activity, I am constantly listening for their hunting call…
“Ya fuckin’ startin’ baey*?”
* – There is some debate as to how that is spelled, personally I consider that as its a modern word created by creatures of a low intelligence, it would be theoretically be spelled phonetically.