Posted Sun Oct 11, 2015 | 104 Words | Tagged story chav

Straight after being spat at by one of the chavs, the infection started. It wasn’t long before his language dropped down, down and further down. One morning he startled himself looking into the mirror and seeing that tattoo. He smirked, enjoying himself for once.

He had got his hair cut the next day, nice and short. He’d even started spitting into the street, just like all of the others. Then once he was complete with his own propa pair of trackies he was completely unrecognisable.

He didn’t care anymore. He was just a cocky chav, with a very infectious case of the chav virus