Situated in the arse-end of Oxford this estate is like a chav academy. In the shadow of the high rise tower block lies a co-op, off license and post office – all the things the aspiring chav needs to be educated. There’s a place to try & get some fags with your fake ID, fresh stocks of chilled white lightning and plenty of old ladies to intimidate as they post their weekly letter to their own chav son, imprisioned last year for some chav crime or other. As it’s the nearest place to get some milk when you run out (& you can’t be arsed to go to tescos) sometime’s there’s no choice but to venture into this evil place. There are rules though – never go alone and don’t wear anything shiney..! So, the journey begins by walking past the Wood Farm bus stop…on a good day you can expect to see a drunk man covered in sick, the usual chav mum with her spangly hair piece & wife-swap inspired fashions and (if you’re very lucky) some of the chav lads (& their dogs) preparing to burn down the nearest speed camera. The next part’s not so bad, a few trees big enough to make you forget where you are & a little old lady mentally preparing herself for her own bus stop ordeal. Then, withough warning, the tower block peers out & you know you’ve got to be carful. A few more steps, turn right & there you are…plenty of photo opportunities of the chavs in their natural habitat. First stop is the off license, this is where most of the chavs hang around for obvious reasons…next door is the post office and, right at the end (where you want to go) is the co-op. Staffed by chavs & with chav customers it’s a funny place to be…most trade is in fags & not much else really. Waiting in the queue to pay is an experience..! There’s guarenteed to be a pram pushing chav mum desperate for some fags to go with her jaffa cakes…behind you is the drunk man eyeing up the whiskey. Back outside & there’s been very little activity, another little old lady frightened for her life is leaving the post office & runnning as fast as her new hip can manage.