Sunday, September 10, 2006

"I'm a chav!"

"I'm a chav!"

If my adventures in the world of thongs weren't bad enough the fact that I was attending a Chav Party meant that I also had to buy a scrunchie. A pink one. And a headband to match.

But there was nothing that scared me quite as much as the moment that I saw D in his outfit. Not only would I have wanted to cross the road from someone who found it socially acceptable to wear two pairs of socks tucked over their reebok trousers but the more worrying factor was the fact that D, well, looked straight.

"This is why everyone thinks there are no gay chavs - of course there are, you just can't tell under all the clothing"

If not happy then accepting of this point, we set about making me pregnant. As interesting a blog as it would make for not with the aid of a turkey baster I hasten to add ("Give it ten years"), but with a pashmina. Because I was not just going to be a chav, I was going to be a pregnant chav. If you haven't yet realised, I don't do these things by half.

When we arrived at L's I suspect that D and I had settled rather too much into our family routine, something that was only made worse by the discovery of Chav giftbags containing chocolate cigarettes and Lamvino in plastic bottles. I was, though, passibly happy that I only scored 10% on the Chav Test (and I argued that liking Christopher Bailey and Burberry isn't necessary a Chav thing. That I know who Christopher Bailey is probably points to that alone).

After a balanced meal of mini chocolates, pizza and chips (without cheese for me because it's skanky) we decided that the chav music could be switched off as it was generally just traumatising everyone and instead it was on with Steps Gold.

"Chavs don't listen to Steps"

"Of course they do - they just listen to it in secret"


And suddenly me and my bump were demonstrating why I know more Steps dances than is probably morally right for one person. Because I may not be a chav but I am a bit of a geek.

6 comments:

Nik said...

first of all - cheesy chips are not skanky.
second of all - knowing steps dances does not make you a geek, knowing html makes you a geek.
third of all - pregnant bellies are freaky
fourth of all - who's christopher bailey?
fifth of all - you may have a point about gay chavs, i shall consult my GBFs and get back to you.

gayle said...

Lol, I came on here to remonstrate with you about the cheesy chips, only to find Nik has got there first! You're outnumbered, you may as well back down gracefully!
And I trust D was wearing Rockports and a baseball cap to complete his look? Chavs, you gotta love 'em.

Anonymous said...

Great, more class snobbery. http://arts.guardian.co.uk/features/story/0,,1751277,00.html

val said...

Just to back you up, Coza, cheesy chips are skanky! I have no idea who Christopher Bailey is, but I am slightly traumatised by the fact that 'Steps Gold' exists! And where are the pics?

Nik said...

I'm confused as to why you're traumatised by Steps Gold. Just fyi though, Steptacular was their best album.

Corinne said...

Cheesy chips are skanky! They will always be skanky. Steps Gold, however, is a thing of wonder not of trauma. ;-) As for the gorgeous Mr Bailey - he's the head designer for Burberry. I want him to be my GBF.

Gayle - ooh, how did you guess?! I'm not sure how anyone walks in rockports, though, they're so heavy I'd have to stand still.

And there will be photos...maybe...

Thanks for the article, anon. I do, however, reserve the right to laugh about class (be it that of Burberry wearers, or Posh boys with RP accents or middle class armchair activists) just as I reserve the right to laugh about: WAGS, boys with guitars, Geeks who know html and Steps dances, people who wear too much fake tan, non-stalkers, southerners, politicians, Guardian readers, people who leave anon comments, bloggers, non-bloggers, actors, girls who show their stomachs when they really shouldn't, people without a sense of humour and, most importantly, myself.

And you're right, I am a snob. I'm a literature snob. I'm a theatre snob. I'm an intellectual snob. I'm even a pub quiz snob. But a class snob? I think that shows how little you know of me.