The reveal of a chav, in a writing mood, inspired by some people I've met this year.

WARNING: Contains strong language.

For all those struggling to get down with the lingo,
Record Antiques Roadshow, and cancel the bingo,
Allow me to enlighten you with a definition of some kind,
What a chav truly is, will soon be embedded in your mind.

U dnt hav 2 tlk lyk dizz to be a chav at heart,
Or worship Eminem waitin for your VTEC to start,
‘Chav’ isn’t a culture, so what is it you may ask?
The appreciation society, of jeans halfway down your *kitten*.

Dem *****es may be sportin the latest burberry swag,
Downin bottles of Lambrini and rollin a ‘****in *kitten*’,
But you can’t judge a teen, by their social habits,
An adidas tracksuit doesn’t mean they’re shagging hoes like rabbits.

A certain brand of clothing doesn’t define who you are,
Nor the penguin waddle or the highly modded car,
A chav put in simple terms is an antisocial yob,
With no respect for anyone, just a complete ****ing knob.

A chav is someone who thinks they’re ‘hard’ and throws out empty threats,
Whose spent their life dishing out abuse and still has no regrets,
Someone chillin at Mcdonalds and appreciatin sick beats and grime,
Doesn’t make them any less worthy of your love, regards or time.

When you’re strollin the streets of Northampton, remember just one thing,
The loveliest person you could ever meet, could be hidden under all that bling.

I’m practicing this whole ‘open mindedness’ lark, but yano, when someone looks at you, and tells you to get in the van or asks for a supply of weed, you can probably safely make the judgement that they’re a chav – not that I’m talking from experience, or anything...