When we had the snow, I went over the town centre for my usual afternoon walk. I happened upon a group of youths who were chucking snowballs at old women and men who couldn’t run after them. Funnily enough, although they were only yards from the entrance to one of the gyms above a shop, I noticed they didn’t chuck a single thing at any of the lads who were leaving after a workout on the weights.
There were a couple of girls & 4 lads, all of whom were dressed in tracksuits & baseball caps. They spoke with the effected ‘street’ accent which has nothing to do with the region in which they were brought up. It’s probably something to do with appearing mutually cool with each other but just makes them look & sound like a bunch of losing tossers. They could be summed up as chavs.
I have no time for those who say we owe it to youths like them to interact with them, to empathise with them. I lost my patience with that attitude many years ago when I realised that it’s very nice but actually doesn’t work; rather than solving the problem it merely makes it worse, in my humble opinion.
Quite frankly, I’d sooner gather the whole lot up & transport them to some island where a race of people who are bigger & harder than them get to make their lives hell & piss on their chips all day long.
I saw one of those lads today as I went to the corner shop to grab a Radio Times. I recognised him straight away, partly because he was wearing the same tracksuit but mainly because he has a distinguishing scar right across his face. He probably says he got it in a knife fight when really his hand slipped whilst wanking & his fake Argos diamond ring cut his cheek on the back stroke.
He passed me with one of his mates & they walked up the way I had come.
I got my RT & walked back towards my street, ahead I saw this particular oxygen thief who appeared to be looking through a neighbour’s fence. I thought he might be adding to the rather colourful collection of graffiti, but when I got closer – after the chav had moved on – I realised he had been pissing up against my neighbour’s fence. Broad daylight.
Is it me or is it really wrong to suddenly have an overwhelming desire to treat him like the animal he so well mimics by dragging him back by the scruff of the neck & rubbing his face in it on pain of having a broken arm? Perhaps I should just invite him to a focus group where we can discuss which holiday he’d like to be taken on in order to stop his anti-social meanderings.