This is a poxy little town on the outskirts of Hamburg. Despite being within 20 minutes of one of Europe’s most buzzing cities, the local ‘yoof’ seem to get far more pleasure arsing around the train station wearing jeans that just about cover their scrawny bums and attempting to rap (in English).
Highly amusing is the use of chav slang in German accents, with spotty nerks in Burberry saying ‘safe’ and ‘wickit is it not?’ in much the same accent as really bad actors played SS officers in 1950’s war films. There is also a uniquely German chav brand label called Pit Bull, with typical Teutonic humour they find it highly amusing to have said dog and wear the label.
Also around town can be found Polish, Russian and Turkish chavs, but they’re much too scary for me to take the piss out of even when I’m sat in a newspaper office in north London
The girls as a rule wear more ‘bling’ around one neck than can be seen on the whole of Guildford High St on a Saturday evening. There also seems to be an unwrtitten (but scrupulously followed) rule that they get pregnant at 14, buy the upstairs of their parent’s home and convert it into a chavnest at 18 and then at 26 miraculously turn into small-spectacle-wearing Frauleins with all the sense of humour of a sprig of broccoli. Oddly enough they also become quite attractive. Maybe it’s the lack of 11 kilos of makeup.
The men put on about 15 stone and go to work in the local wire factory and never, ever leave town except to go to Mallorca for two weeks where they eat in German restaurants and drink in German bars.
And you thought the Brits were unique eh?