Chav Killa

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by SuperTrooper, Jul 29, 2005.

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  1. En route home tonight a spiky haired little Chav gimp cycled past me. Little fooker nearly rodes over me foor with his gang of Chav 6+ mates. Of course I gave the little 16 yr old cnut a look from hell. Having spent 12 hours on London aid lookin out for Bin Foofbar and his mates, so imagine this the little fooker comes up behind me, his Chav mates staying a great distance behind. As I am wearing a suit he obviously thinks I am a spotter so he comes up to me and says, "Whats you problem" Says I, I dont have one feck arf. Says he "Well you've been loookin at me so you obviously have one you bald cunut." Having dealt with harder 3 yr olds I say to spotty, " Hoi you little cnut fuck off I am old bill and I am not in the mood for any of you's little feckers tonight " Being a brave little Chav he pipes up, " You're not a copper me an d me mates will do you." Having ahd enough of Chav Boy I take my met warrant card out and place it on his nose. With my right fist I then push it so hard against his spotsy face he cycles away like a Tour De Frog racer. I then go the short few 100 m to my home where I decide to get out of my suit and go looking for all of them! Of course they have all fled and I boil thinking of my next meeting with these little fecking potential robbers. The next murder in Herts is mine if its a sprong twat on a bike.

    PS I am pished
     
  2. You should have put a bayonet through his neck then fcuked his mum with a bag of tin tacks.
     
  3. I wouldn't have bothered wasting breath on the cnut. His BMX would have been instantly inserted up his hoop. Ultra-violence is the way ahead with these twats.
     
  4. What is the answer to Chav intimidation though, it is all very well for arrse members to tell them where to get off, but when they force their aggressive personality on people who are unable to abuse them what should be done?
     
  5. Use 20 odd year olds like myself and my m8s who haven't got any real responsibilty's and might get away with caving their lil chav heads in.
    It's already been tried and tested....apparently of course
     
  6. best solution is to play the long game, work out where they go each day, everybody has a habit and they usually walk the same route day in and day out, as soon as you worked out their routine, wear an IRA style mask and have a baseball bat ready or something harder if you prefer and wait til they come to you , night time is better (easy getaway) and tw@t the fcuker till you have had enough then do one, do not go straight home, instead go to the nearest countryside, bury the bat and mask in the muddiest ground, destroys DNA evidence etc if found.
    then take the long route home from the other end of town.
    job done and you can smile satisfied and pour yourself a Stella. :)





    Disclaimer: i cannot be held responsible if you get caught , obviously you didn't get it from me. 8)
     
  7. A peat bog is better, the grounds natural acidity destroys DNA etc quite quickly or just leave the s"ite with the bat still inserted up his arrse. wear marrigolds at all times prior though.
     
  8. Good advice fellas!

    But the chav plays on the fact that he thinks is hard. Since knowledge is power, and you KNOW you are harder, I find full volume in your face works quite well. Civvis just don't know how to shout properly, and so the intense shock and surprise at being on the receiving end of a face full of angry best drill voice works leaping wonders!
     
  9. This thread popped into my head this morning as I was walking to get the paper, and it sparked a trip down memory lane.

    Back in January I had the misfortune of using public transport at the same time as the daily school run. As many will know, public transport tends to be the domain of the underclass. I was waiting in the bus shelter when I heard a CRACK. A mong had thrown a stone at the hardened glass. So I thought "it may be an accident or a one off, let it go this time". A second CRACK ensued. So I turned to the group of youths (only 11-13 years old so only fledgling chavs and of nuisance value only) and told them to fcuk off. The third CRACK sparked something in me.

    I have never had to raise my voice in anger during 7 years of wearing the Queen's uniform, although I was only an officer and therefore not entrusted with the responsibility of issuing real SNCO-type b@llockings. :D Nevertheless, I consider myself a calm and good-tempered person.

    I gave the three rapscallions a roasting worthy of Bad Lads Army, spraying their faces with spittle and exhausing the dictionary of expletives with threats of extreme and imaginative physical violence. It was great! Afterwards I phoned their school to grass them up, although it was in the back of my mind that I might be visited by the social workers and police as a result of my actions (ie shouting at them rather than buying them Playstations).

    I wholeheartedly recommend such a course of action - it makes you feel much better! :D