Have I ever mentioned just how much I hate chavs? I’m becoming terribly snobby about it all, generally fed up of being tailgated by a pimped up Saxo full of baseball cap wearing obnoxious males with blue tinted headlights and enough bass to cause an exhaust pipe to fall off.
While trying on a LBD* in Topshop this week I actually heard the teenage child in the cubicle next door work the words ‘am I bovvered?’ into a serious conversation. The sound of my coughing with laughter could be heard throughout the store and they must have spotted me due to my bright red face, choked by laughter and my streaming eyes.
To be brutally honest, it bemuses me. As someone who doesn’t completely follow fashion (I tend to do my own thing…) I probably can’t comment on chav fashion, but as we have a ‘no hoodies’ rule in work, you’d think they’d have got the picture now. I’ve even started getting giggling messages through my headset informing me that my favourite abusive customers are in again. The regular staff all hate them too, but just prefer watching teeny me kick ass!