In addition to the **** next door and his chain-smoking, beer-swilling, beaten-up-regularly 8-month-pregnant girlfriend…
I saw the most stereotypical chav family in Morrisons on Saturday. Horrible they were. Evil, even. Admittedly quite old for chavs, mind. Sort of mature chavs, if that isn’t a contradiction in terms.
Mum was a complete minger. Only a blind man with no sensation in his fingers, a complete lack of sense of smell and a guide dog with a really cruel sense of humour would have gone there. Lumpy, craggy, wrinkled, smelly… urgh.
Dad had a really bad buzz cut, perhaps done by the same blind guide dog. The kind of bloke who looks like he picks fights with people three times his size because he’s under the mistaken impression that he actually is as hard as he looks. Only the fact that he was missing a large portion of his left hear (and I could see the toothmarks where it was detached) tells me he’s not as hard as the people he winds up.
The kid, though. Another class. About 10-ish, clad in a dark blue "Burberry" hoody – of course with the hood right up. With his big googly eyes, he looked like ET on the front of Elliot’s bike.
There were some cub scouts helping with packing at the tills in exchange for your hard-earned spare brass and Little Chav spotted the collection bucket remarkably quickly for one so early in his criminal life. Fingers straight in. Until Mum smacked him in the face.
She obviously guessed he’d spend the money on crack instead of more ***** from Elizabeth Duke for her to hang off her fingers.