Written by Anonymous Visitor and posted in East Anglia, Herefordshire, United Kingdom

Firstly, let me state that I am a resident of Stevenage, and have been since my birth. But, recently, I have become aware of the problem that afflicts this town, and trust me, it is not the local council blowing £60,000 of taxpayers money on a bit of canvas and six poles in the twon centre, or the fact that the NHS seems hellbent on closing down our A&E services. The problem is the thousands of chavs that infest this town, from Pin Green to Shephall, from East to West, a sample of how low people can slump. The police pretend to be in control of this town, but in reality it is controlled by one of the gangs from the numerous Sixties-esque housing estates spreading outwards from the Town Centre like a maligant disease. Walk through one of these estates late at night, and like myself, you will most probably have to run for it along the dual carriageway, chased by drug-crazed, Burberry clad scum. The Town Centre plays host to these people during the daytime, where they are either to be found outside the local JobCentre waiting for their dole money so it can be spent in the local establishments such as the Edward the Confessor, now sadly closed by the police due to violence, or in the Tesco where many of the local chavs who can’t find a man desperate enogh to impregnate them will happily serve you alcohol be you 9 or 90. The Town Centre itself reflects Stevenage as a whole, rundown, decrepit, full of chav shops such as JJB, and Sports and Soccer, where our local chavs get their sportsgear – at the moment, the sale brands and thus Stevenage clothing are Lonsdale and YSL. Walk into anyone of the boozers around the town and you are likely to be assaulted both physically and verbally by a fat, sportswear clad chav, who one moment is proudly claming how happy he is on benefits, the next abusing everyone under the Sun for taking his job. If you have the misfortune to have to drive into Stevenage, the local boy racers are a sight to be seen, mostly when they are pulled over by around 30 police (no lies) for having no licence and insurance. Cycling is a different matter, as every bicycle rack in Stevenage is a congregation point for the Chavs – you have a 50% chance of your bike being there when you return. Gang warfare is prevalent – gangs routinely attack each other with guns and the like, the preference where I live, Shephall, is for the local gang to “kneecap” you with a baseball bat, or to chase you while out exercising for “disrespecting them”. One of the most satisfying moments of my life was when I took out a Stevenage chav after losing my temper, the thing with Stevenage chavs is to not call the police, but to get a large group of your neighbours and suchlike, and take the little bastards yourself, the only guarantee that the job will be done in a town with 80,000 inhabitants, but only 4 police officers on duty on a Saturday night, mostly stationed in the local leisure park where you are guaranteed an unleisurely time, simply for being different. Perhaps the most obivous sign of my town being a Chav heartland is the recent Trophy Final – with Stevenage ‘fans’ clogging up the entrances to McDonalds in Wembley, swearing and shouting abuse at every single police officxer in sight, drinking in public, and fighting each other in the middle of a dual carriageway in Wembley on the way down over a cutting up incident. I have been some rough places in my life – Ardrossan and Glasgow Scotland being the most rough, but I would still rather walk through the streets of Ardrossan, highest unemployment rate in Western Scotland, than Stevenage. Despite all of this, Stevenage is getting better – but the reputation of Chav heartland will persist for ever, and this moniker is welldeserved.


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