I can’t Believe No-one’s entered Grimsby into iLiveHere.
So Here it is and here I go.
I’ve been here a couple of months now. I used to live In a nearby town which had a fairly even distribution of all types of folk, including of course chavs. I’d visited Ingoldmells on numerous occasions, and noticed there wasn’t any long hair, baggy jeans, blacks or asylum-seekers anywhere to be seen. But the Trackies, hooped earrings, the screaming of bastard toddlers born to under-age parents, all of these elements were self-evident. In the extreme. “This is a sh*thole and a half” I remember thinking. After a couple of hours perusing the market, browsing the moody gold and counterfeit “designer” tracksuits and trainers, I caught the bus and breathed a sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge I’d never have to visit the sh*thole again. little did I know the worst was yet to come.
I came to Grimsby in June. It was nightfall as I arrived. Passing a kiddies park; I noticed a group of youths drinking cider, decked out in the now legendary chav uniform of baseball-caps and tracksuits. so the matter passed. then another park. more chavs. some shops. more chavs. “For f**k’s sake,” I thought, “what have I let myself in for?” in the space of 5 minutes, from outskirts to home, I must have seen over a hundred chavs. I’d seen only one other person since reaching grimsby, this was a rather nervous looking elderly gentleman whom I could only assume was perplexed as to why these teenagers were wearing their tracksuit bottoms tucked into their socks, although clearly the vast majority weren’t riding bicycles(though the ones that were on bikes had probably nicked them).
In the weeks that have followed, I haven’t had a single adult, intelligent conversation. not one. the closest I came to that was being asked for ID in a pub. I’m a single guy, and I was hoping to one day find a nice young lady and start a family in the future. Not in this f**king town I won’t. I was chatting to what could only be described as a Half-chavette in the dn31 pub in the town centre, and thought “hmm, she’s not that bad a looker, I’ll see how I go on” Then she smiled, exposing what looked like (no joke) mould growing between her teeth. If that wasn’t enough to put you off shagging for life, I’ve noticed that all the women in this town are either pushing pushchairs, screaming at toddlers, pregnant, suffering from herpes, fat, getting rattled in bus shelters (or on kids play equipment, or public toilets, or anywhere else they can nip for a quick f**k.
Then there’s the fellas. The paper the other day reported on the murder of a 37 year-old father and grandfather. hang on a minute, Thirty F*****g Seven?? the picture printed of the victim confirmed my fears. Baseball Cap, Moody Gold, CHAV. the last couple of weeks there’s been a young lad riding round our street on a bicycle. nothing unusual there I hear you say. This bicycle had a homemade trailer attached to it with a homemade speaker box attached to it, playing one of the 4 only songs people in grimsby are permitted to listen to (alas, I fear it may have been dj rankin) without being lynched or at the very least being called “gay” or “dickhead”. this “music” was being played at a volume that the 6″ x 9″ car speakers clearly couldn’t handle. I hope the little s**t gets knocked off the contraption by one of his joyriding pals. somehow reprobate doesn’t seem like a strong enough word.
I’m most certainly not staying here any longer than I have to. I’ve never experienced, let alone lived in, such a chav-ridden sh*thole as Grimsby. I think I might move to Beirut….