Sandridge is a small village just down the road from Hatfield on the north side of St Albans. It is comprised of two housing estates with some reasonably nice houses on the outsides. The streets are lined with Novas and and Ford fiestas, with metallic paint, front and rear spoilers, blacked out windows and stereos worth more than the cars themselves. The younger chavs and chavettes sit indimidatingly outside the village shop trying to coerce people into buy cigarettes or alcohol for them. Pointless vandalism is record high. One day as I was walking through the village I heard a chav couple, aged approximately 14 or 15; the male chav proudly gesturing to a broken bench and saying ‘I done that’ while his girlfriend stared at me through half a pound of foundation. Many people refer to sandridge as a ‘hell hole’ some might call this an unfair description but it is actually fairly accurate, seeing as sandridge is in a hole and the nightly arson attacks means at least part of it is hell.