Everyone hates chavs. They stink of shit, have green teeth, sit around all day watching their idols on Jeremy Kyle and gelling their fringes to their foreheads, walk around the streets attempting to stare small animals and 5 year old kids out and smoking their gran’s menthols and just generally are really cunty people who bring doom and gloom to any neighbourhood, much like gone-off milk brings a minging smell to your fridge and a clotted cream texture to your mouth.
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Where I live, there are as many chavs as there are sheep. They look pretty alike, too, but the sheep smell much better because they can afford a can of Lynx or whatever every so often. It’s common to see a horde of the goblins walking around the streets at 7 in the morning, sharing a can of Special VAT in preparation for their day of work sat outside the job centre, spitting at passing cars and farting on the heads of babies.
But there’s dickhead chavs everywhere and they’re taking the world on – one job centre at a time. If the world does end in a few weeks, it’s more than likely because of a chav uprising or something and it looks like a place that’s really shittily named ‘Dudley’ has its fair share of the ugly bastards who’re even uglier than the place’s name.
Anyway, here’s one of those gorgeous chavs walking around the streets of Dudley in his pretty tidy tracksuit with his mate who wouldn’t think twice about kicking in a 90 year old woman for 17 pence. He sees a CCTV camera, gives it a chav-wave and walks straight into a lamppost. Check it. The guy’s a wanker:
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