The chavs in Rednal are a hardy new breed and exemplify the next genetic step in the march towards Chavtopia. It’s like Nietzsche in reverse, “Behold! The Underman!” or something. Anyway, the f*****s are everywhere. There are gaggles of them roaming the streets at night, congregating principaly outside the Spar on Edgewood Road. Some feckless examples roam as far as Rubery village but they forget that their explosive collars will detonate if they venture beyond the exclusion zone. It’s tough, but that’s Darwinism for you.
In my experience, the Uberchav is a 14 year old girl surrounded by her mates whose verbal dexterity only extends to, “Will you shop for me?” Which means, “Will you buy me a huge ruck of ciders with this tenner that’s still ringing wet from coming out of the colour photocopier my step-dad nicked from some other dodgy bloke in an Aquascutum cap way up in the wilds of Northfield?”
In the light of this kind of plea I usually just lecture the vaccuous bints about how in the last two decades we’ve all become addicted to the technologies which take away our ability to think…and I have to say, I’ve got the bruises to prove it.
I’m currently working on a chav vaccine but it keeps on looking like nothing more than a crossbow and a scrap of courage. Please, do you know anyone?