Tag Archives: super lager

Nottingham – Chav Density Increasing

Every Urban Centre appears to have at least one major ‘Chav’ area where the population density of the Chav far outweighs that of the Yummy Mummy, Volvo Family or the Ben-Sherman-Money-Clip Wide-Boy. Roaming diplomat and sex piston Rusty Bullethole bleats about the latest figures on Chav Density.

Nottingham and its environs. Home of many a depressed and surly famous person from the unappetising D.H. Lawrence and spew-fest romantiscist Lord Byron to the ignorant Kenneth Clarke and the population reducing Harold Shipman. It has been noted in recent months that the increase in the Chav Factor is spiralling out of control with almost every inner city ward a concern for Euro Ministers as Nottingham has become known to be ‘completely devoid of decency and humanity’, much like government.

DH Lawrence - he says cunt a lot.

DH Lawrence – he says c*nt a lot, like Chavs

TWK understand that as from the beginning of this month that the international scheme for the evacuation of people from Nottingham “not in falsely worn sportswear” will begin in order to place them in a safer environment although still with familiar surroundings, somewhere such as Damascus.

“Percentages of cheap (mainly white) tracksuits on people are at an all time high.”, stated Chavwatch President Andrew Brown, “Generally accentuated by the obligatory Greggs Bag, Poverty Buggy complete with dirty child and the ‘diamond’ or ‘tear’ tatoos on the faces of the barbarous heathens that are generally found spitting and occupying spaces outside cheap alcohol vendors. It’s not a good time for the UK.”

Chavs - Jolly Souls

Chavs – Limited Numeracy Skills

It is noted that many of the areas in and around Nottingham: St Annes, Bulwell, Hucknall, Hyson Green, Broxtowe, etc. have long been suffering from sycophantism to the Chav from the pandering and court-case fearing Local Authorities. Local resident Mr Drunk was asked to explain away his typical day. We caught up with him outside the local branch of Boozebuster:

“Jus’ got me’sen sum Livakill Super.”, announced the 25 year-old, “An’ a Iceland Doner.”

An extensive tirade of abuse from the range of foreigners allowed in the country to the state of the NHS ensued before finally getting out the information required to make our assessment: “Ar, reight. Wos thou wanna know youf?”, and Mr Drunk reeled out a list of a variety of things that he may do during the day other than actually any form of work. TWK have listed them below as best as we could translate them.

- Pop dahn Boozebosters fer me Livakill (pop down first thing in the afternoon to the local off-licence for a pallete cleanser)
- Go ohm an’ watch a birra tele lark (go back to rent-a-dump and shout at various people of any race other than ones own with no apparent reason aside xenophobia or inherent low-intelligent racisim akin to the barbarian)
- Go n sit artside pahndshop and gerraslag (locate a bench in proximity to a local shop where I know I get value and see if I can find a nice lady to take for a meal)
- Go Maccy Ds and get sommat (nutrition is of high importance and this will surely balance out the Livakill I have been drinking since the age of 10)
- elp me lad fix opis wagon (to assist his 14 year old boy – inevitably called something like Kai, Mitchell or Mason – work on his B reg Nova with twin exhaust)
- Pop rahnd nt see me mate n get sum stuff (take a trip to the drug dealer and exhange some goods stolen from the poundshop for a selection pack of arsenic and stricnine laced produce)
- Get ready fer the naht lark (Put on ones best creased up white tracksuit complete with crack based rock burns and some LA-gangster based slogan emblazened upon it, don an amount of gold similar to a level found on Mr T ready to enjoy the evening)
- Go aht robbin or stabbin on me ‘patch’ (and then just join in the local fun with the local people on a typical night on the estate.)

Doner Pizza - One of the 5-a-day

Iceland – Killing off the poor.

“Chavtacular.”, commented the disillusioned Brown.

It appears that Nottingham has long since been the template for Chavism and the wave of infection seems to be gathering at a pace and spreading throughout the country. Obesity sits hand in glove with the Chav approach of “sausage roll and Maccy Ds diet” with some level of denial with the ordering of diet coke as some kind of trade-off. “I can only put it down to a clear lack of mirrors.” said a senior council source.

Sadly, the disease is spreading further at an alarming rate, my own siblings family long since contracted the disease. With blobby children that do not even realise they are fat and unfit, where racism is confused with patriotism and with a blatant unwillingness to accept what is ejaculating on their faces – the signs are clearly there and escalating. Alongside a modicum of self-congratulation at every mundane task in order to eat chocolate/maccy d/greggs/only drink cheap pop or cheap vodka and abstain from important parenting/basic thinking/exercise/basic social awareness there is a definite movement for the chav-parent towards being concilliatory all of the time.

“Well, innit, as long asegot [they have] cheap vodka, porn n shit [reading material and a whole host of hydrogentaed vegetable fat based snacks] and they’re happy what fookin difference doit [does it] make, innit?”, noted mum and auntie of four, Keeley, 15 from St Annes. Tapping the bump on her belly she recited, “cash in da bank.”

Chavwatch are concerned you may not know if you are entering into a Chavzone and they have determined the best correlation to Chavism is generally nomenclature. So should you hear or note any of the following names in close proximity to yourself you have the right to notify the authorities:

Kai, Courtney, Jade, Jordan, Kylie, Paige, Chelsea, Beyonce, Kieron, Mason, Declan, Mitchell, Kayleigh, Chantelle, Keeley, Chelseigh, Britney, Sky, Storm, Autumn, Nike, India, Kade, Cindy, Toni, Dwayne, Reece, Chayse, Brooklyn, Damon, Myles, Kyle, Josh, Courtnee, Mia, Tyler, Spencer, Raquel, Aleisha, Chardonnay, McKenzie, Sambuca, Crystal, Kane, Hunter, Bianca.

Chav T-Shirt: Time for a Greggs

Weasel Kickers Quality Clothing Store

Snow Way – Sensationalism Hits New Heights

It doesn’t matter how much snow there is or whether temperatures actually drop to cold or not, all of the newspapers this week will warn of an imminent ‘Big Freeze’ substituting science for conjecture and reality with hype it seems this week could prove pivotal in the race for the ‘Big Bullshit’. Competition is fierce. Rusty Bullethole misinterprets:

The erection of a 5 foot snow cock on Chav Drive, Derby, UK epitomised the sense of impending doom throughout the UK this weekend. Local layabout Andrew Brown lamented whilst consuming his 5th can of White Flash, “I dunt giya fook.”

Art - its not always this funny

Snow – There are always hidden dangers

Councillors and journalists alike have refused to take a blase attitude and attempts to diffuse this apathy have been vehement. “There is clearly a need for alarm.”, slurred Rusty Bullethole of the Campaign for Local Apathy Protection. Our information group aims to get the message into the public domain that action is required. “If people want more information on apathy protection they should come and join us – get involved with CLAP.”

Despite the Newspapers having little to report on than the obligatory airport closure, cancelled bus runs and the clusters of local schools closures the public are not heeding the warnings put out by central government. Hoardes of people have been seen out in the snow smiling and laughing not caring about the messages of death and disaster that have been delivered perpetually through our doorsteps, into our newsagents and pasted across every news channel with the same overturned lorry spilling a lethal cocktail of orange juice, chicken livers and Calgon.

Schools - breeding grounds for H&S issues

Snow – it makes people drive like twats

Rusty Bullethole labelled the ongoing snow bound antics of the British Public as “Wreckless and blatantly spitting a greenie in the face of public concern”. Many a journalist can feed their young now during the coming weeks by researching and publishing many a doom-laden phrase, such as ‘cold snaps’, ‘temperature inversions’, ‘global cooling’ up to, and including, theĀ irresistibleĀ ’ice ages’.

Mr Bald Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Twat mumbled, “….poxy microphone out of my face you little prick.” before launching a scathing attack on, we assume, the British Public for their failure to react to such knee-jerk hyperbole and misrepresentation of fact, “cocking tossers”, with reaction continuing by kicking a fire hydrant and attempting to employ it as a metaphor, “See that? It’s there and not affecting anything.” cadjoled the folically challenged editor who then proceeded to rip it out of the ground and throw it at a scattering of desperate hacks whilst trumpeting “where’s your god now, eh, WHERE’S YOUR GOD NOW?”

With such a stark statement it is clear that we the public do not know, nor appreciate, the dangers presented to us by things in general. Sure, the snow may ‘look’ like it is thawing, it even may ‘feel warm’ but at the behest of the journalistic hierarchy the public are urged to observe the reality of the situation and should at all times bow to the knowledge of the Press Association.

“I didn’t realise it could be so bad.” reflected Andrew Brown after his 7th can of White Flash, “I’m sat out here in my jeans and jumper when I just read I might be dying of hypothermia. It could be happening to everyone.”

At 10:19am on Monday 6th February 2012, after his 8th can of White Flash, Andrew Brown sadly lost the battle to retain the use of his sense of personal responsibility. Black cans will be purchased throughout the morning in memory of this loss of common sense.

Black Cans - eliminating memory

Super Cider – the British alternative to emotion