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Posted via email from attobrute’s posterous

Posted via email from attobrute’s posterous

Humanoid in appearance, but primative and animalistic in nature, chavs are fast becoming the bane of humanity. Now all but classified as a completely seperate species, chavs took the left of the fork on the road of evolution when everybody else went right. Today, chavs can be seen in almost every urban area of Britain. Easily identified by either their baseball caps, hooped sports sweaters, excess Burberry and impossibly colourful Nike trainers (male) or scraped back frizzy hair, earrings you could train a dolphin to jump through, cheap leggings and Reebok Classics (female), chavs hunt in packs.

Unlike other species, chavs hunt for cigarettes and bus fare instead of food. Food is always obtained at fast food establishments such as McDonalds, or convenience stores (Spar, Late Shop). It is quite common for food to be thrown instead of eaten, with the chav preferring his / her fags and cider / Lambrini (charver cava).

Chavs are normally hostile towards humans, particularly those who favour alternative music, whom they have branded "moshers" or "grungers". A chav's music collection is limited. Hip-hop and hardcore for the males, Britney and trance for the females. Dogs (the more volatile, the better), mobile phones, cheap or fake gold and "souped-up" (debadged) 1990's Vauxhall Novas are must-have accessories.

Note: the above description typifies the average chav, but there are actually quite a few varieties. Be sure to look for them at any of the following locations: McDonalds, Burger King, Spar, Late Shop, Primark, TK-Maxx, any sportswear retailer or any local park (after 6pm).

Examples of a chav's primative vocabulary are as follows:
Chav: Eeyar yo! Mosha! Gotta spare cig?
Brian: No, I don't smoke.
Chav: Wha' ya mean no, ya f*kin' mosha? Ah spark ya!
Brian: Go on then…
Chav: Yo Trace! (emerging from Mothercare) Pass us me mob so I can fone ya bruv!
Trace: Why, ya f*kin dick'ed?
Chav: So he can tune diss chav for me!
Trace: Got no credit, yo!
Trace's baby: <crying>
Trace: Shut it ya little fucka!

Posted via email from attobrute’s posterous