“Two Can Van Damme”
Chavs…we,ve all seen them. We,ve all dealt with them in one way or another. We know their trademarks and habits. The under class of the country at the moment until the next generation evolves into something even worse…if thats possible.
Recently I had occasion to visit a domicile resided in by a charming young chap who had been detained by Her Majesties finest. Upon entering the “home” I was guided to our potential patient/customer/client by the raised voices emanating from the upper echelons of this humble “abode”.
“Fuck off you fucking pig! I,m going to fucking kill you! I,m going to kill the fucking lot of you!” This was followed very quickly by the usual scuffling sounds and assorted grunts of breathlessness that stems from the owner of the “gob” being grabbed and hand cuffed by the Police and being pinned to the floor.
At this point I had not even seen my patient/customer/client yet. I waited a couple of moments before popping my head around the corner of the door. “How do!” I made my introduction and was informed by the Police officer knelt down with his knee in the “yoofs” back that the “yoof” maybe injured from a bike crash.
On first impressions our patient/customer/client seemed fine with no obvious injuries. All the major body systems seemed intact, skeletal system intact due to the amount of force he was trying to exert in throwing a punch whilst having hands handcuffed behind his back. Nervous system intact due to the amount of vitriol emanating from his gob with partially understandable phrases. To cut a long story short he was okay.
This then made him the responsibility of the Police and he was carried off to a waiting Police van for his journey into the night towards a nice warm, cosy Police station. Marvellous.
It was during our brief encounter with this chap in his environment that I noticed little things dotted around his bedroom: the cannabis ready to roll up on the bedside table (a bedside table for a Chav?…how unusual!), the assortment of knives laid out on the top of his television (proper, nasty pointed type of knives not for use in a skilled craftsman capacity), a baseball bat poking out from under the bed (not for use as a recreational past time me thinks!), various posters adorning the walls of ladies in differing states of undress flaunting their ample gravity challenging distractions at me, a quantity of empty Special strength Lager cans casually strewn around the room and a pile of trackie bottoms (alternating double white stripe and triple white stripes which must be for court appearances) and the classic baseball cap in Burberry of course!
This young chap was a real “Two can Van Damme” as most of them are especially when in a gang. A real hero thinking that he was harder than anyone else. Its at times like these that I wish we could be allowed to release them and challenge their behaviour properly by giving them a right good smacking and stamping on their scrawny little necks. But I know that would not fit in with the Patients Charter and my bosses would probably frown upon such activities. Bugger!
I found this version of Monopoly and recognised each and every square on it!