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SOUTH EAST https://www.ilivehere.co.uk/claygate.html
Ah Claygate, once a quiet, sought-after village on the Surrey-London border, now home to some of Surrey’s most disgusting *****. In recent years, with the growth of the village’s council estates, Claygate has morphed into a cesspit of vice and vandalism.
Of an evening you will usually find the chavlings ******* about ‘down the rec’ and, even though the police introduced a curfew and lock the park gates, the children still manage to break in for a night of solvent abuse—many families have been started ‘down the rec’. If the kids get bored kicking in the slide and swings, the next most popular pastime is kicking in the glass in the phone boxes, stupidly positioned within seconds' walk of the rec. BT foolishly replaces the glass within the next few days, only to have it smashed again by a 11-year-old with an anger management problem.
Another popular hangout is outside ‘Raz’s’ kebab shop on the Parade where a large gang of 13-year-old ***** harass and verbally abuse anyone who happens to walk past them, simultaneously trying to encourage the poor passer-by to buy them '10 sovereign’ or something alcohol-based from the off-licence which is conveniently situated a couple of doors down. —in fact anywhere where members of the public cannot help but pass them and be the unfortunate recipients of every abusive word that the chavlings have learnt from their ****** parents.
Other favourite chavling pastimes include Grand Theft Auto (not the computer game), drug dealing and general petty theft. I have experienced the petty theft first hand. While working in the local video rentals shop many a few years ago—I hasten to add that was my part-time job and I am now grown up with a good job just in case you were to mistake me for a ****—some chavlings came in and wandered about for a few minutes picking up the 18-rated films and discussing their merits, until they spied a box of posters in the corner of the room. In a manner that they could only have thought was surreptitious, they slunk over to the box and started trying to fit posters up the sleeves of their jackets and down their trousers then walked out of the shop as nonchalantly as possible. However, a common problem with ***** is their illiteracy, and the chavlings had failed to notice the big FREE sign that had been stuck to the box containing the posters.
Moving on from chavlings we will now deal with their parents: the *****. The main adult **** hangouts are really all of the local pubs and betting shops. The chaviest of all pubs is the Winning Horse: the decor leaves a lot to be desired, with some marble effect lino covering the floor, a plastic ‘stone effect’ bar, and furniture that was obviously half-inched from a church. The door policy is strict: be prepared for odd looks and aggressive stares from all the locals if you happen to visit the Winner and are in possession of all your teeth (the front two missing is the most acceptable) and are not covered in mud, tarmac or wearing something luminous that proves that you have just come in from a hard day's work at the motorway repair services. Ordering a glass of wine there is a rookie mistake never to be repeated, as you are branded a ponce and then have to defiantly drink your wine which is obviously piss left over from some **** christening/wedding reception held at the Winner previously.
The pub is often frequented by members of the ***** trailer park which is situated on the outskirts of Claygate, branded ‘South Claygate’ by the ****** who obviously wish for some sort of acceptance from the locals. These travellers leave huge piles of rubble, burning mattresses, children and vicious dogs in their wake as they stumble about the village wearing padlocks on chains round their necks as a hideously misguided fashion statement. Although they cannot be faulted for creativity—they managed to turn some public toilets into a house and happily lived there until the council ordered them out
