Sutton, near hull, next to Bransholme housing estate, that says it all really, a quaint little village….. or so it used to be before all the middle aged, cock sucking, arse licking, ‘look I work for the council’ brigade emigrated there in droves.
A so called village, which is no more than an extension of a run down, dilapidated housing estate, which I might add is where the majority originated from in the first place.
There’s now’t worse then jumped up wannabies who think they’ve made it in life just because they can afford a poxy 2 up and 2 down, which lets face it you can’t even swing a cat in most of the rooms, which I’m reliably informed is tested frequently,
The chavs can be seen most Sundays, a leisurely stroll through the village unveils a culture quite unnerving, while the chavs get on with cleaning their peugeot’s or volvo’s or mowing their lawns, caps, shorts, trainers and all, trying to look trendy and 20 yet failing miserably, their wives are shagging anything that moves,
This village should be middle class suburbia, but it isn’t, it’s fake, an act, unreal, ruined by folk who honestly believe moving to a village changes them into better people, it’s lost it’s history, it’s prestige, it’s quaintness, a place for the Bransholme crooks (who can’t afford the bus fair into the town centre) to ‘shop’ for secondhand goods.
When I was a child the thought of living in Sutton was a dream, but now, you couldn’t pay me to live there, ask anyone who lives there who is their neighbour 3 doors away and they can’t tell you!
A definition of a chav? Walk through Sutton on a Sunday morning, go to the local newsagent on a Sunday morning, visit the local boot sale on a Sunday morning, believe me you’ll spot more than a few.