"Returning to root - Sourbuggers home " a Boston Travel Page by sourbugger

I may not be a native of this fair town, but five years in its grasp - and I like it.

Since leaving home I seem to be heading down the alphabet - with homes in (in chronological order)

Durham
Catford
Basildon

And now Boston. so where will I move to that begins with 'A' - God save me from somewhere in Wales !

Much more to comeon this page soon

"A dominant male rat may mate with up to 20 female rats in just six hours. The average male chav reading this is Boston (which is unlikely because he was most probably a past pupil of Haven High) would wonder what all the fuss was about. He would probably consider getting in some alcoholic supplies from the Chav Harrod’s – ASDA, cleaning his souped-up Peugeot 106 and slipping in a crafty wank in font of Babestation on Sky in-between engagements.

The town of Boston, a chav stronghold, has at least taken some steps to control the spread of chavism in the town. The ASDA superstore built on heavily polluted land (somehow appropriate) is within pushchair pushing distance of the chav fortress of the Fenside estate, allowing large parts of the town to be spared most of the hard-core chavs for the majority of the day.
In a similar vein the main connecting roads have been liberally sprinkled with road humps designed to scrape the underside of whatever lowered-suspension chav-mobile they are packed into.

On Friday and Saturday nights the chavisation of the town is complete. Chavettes sit on the roundabout benches in the market-place picking fights with passer-bys and each other. Chav-lites (those who adopt the culture, but have proper jobs in the week) adopt the main pubs around town. Real Chavs inhabit the pub / nightclub of ‘Cactus Jacks’ as it serves sickly cocktails and allows free entry for early arrivals. Some people think that the club is so named because it is full of little pricks.

The shopping complex comprising Aldi / McDonalds / MFI / Carpet right / Halfords built a couple of years ago was perfect chav territory, and it was soon colonised by the Chavs who hung out in the car park, admired each other’s wheels and threw the occasional doughnut in their souped-up Peugeots to keep the wannabe chavettes in awe. Whilst anti-chav devices (large yellow locked barriers) were later employed, the nearby PC world car-park provides overspill accommodation for the nocturnal fun.

The Boston chav has low expectations, a Peugeot 106, a women or two up the duff and he is content. After all, Boston is known as the ‘Lobster pot’ – easy to get into, but impossible to get out of. Better to be a human unsatisfied than a chav satisfied.
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