I’m convinced that chavs today are trained in a similar way to Pavlov’s Dogs. They’ll be mooching round outside the chippy, smoking and doing their best to look well’ard when suddenly they see – a cyclist!
Instantly they’re transformed into a bunch of retarded apes, leaping around on the pavement and uttering neanderthal grunts and whoops. Occasionally one manages to string together enough words to shout “Yer wheels goin’ round” which apparently is a cue for all the other chavs to collapse in fits of laughter. Once the cyclist is out of sight it’s a return to normality; the hoodies come back up, the hands go back down the front of their trackie bottoms and they wait for the next bit of entertainment. It’s depressingly predictable.
