Strike
Sussex Border Front
Rangdo said:sorry
Got something to say or just want fewer pesky ads? Join us... 😊
Why I love to live in Crawley !
- Thread starter The Wookiee
- Start date
tinx
Well-known member
Richie Morris said:
Oh crawley town is full of shit,
ITs full of shit, shit and more shit
Oh crawley town is full of shit.
Sung at many a Horsham FC game in years gone by
The Wookiee
Back From The Dead
- Thread starter
- #23
Your average Crawley Chav is able to brag that Crawley recently reached number 6 in the nations Stabbings table (impressive for somewhere that still hasn't achieved City status). For those of you who read the tabloids you may be thinking the name Crawley sounds familiar? That'll be due to us recently achieving the feat of having the youngest mother on record in Britain living amongst us, and while just turned 14 is a respectable age for Chavettes, this one had a miscarriage a year ago!
By this point you may have started believing that Chavs just go around stabbing and banging their bints in the well shadowed alleyways, but NO. There is another favoured pastime of your average Chav which CANNOT be overshadowed. I am of course referring to the Pint&Fight phenomenon that rules there lives. Of course pints are expensive and become troublesome to carry off to the local park bench or the Chav Mecca (the local Bus Station); hence Tescos has made a resolution to always have a special offer on 3littre bottles of white lightning!
Imbued with the newly found strength and power found at the bottom of a 3litre bottle of white lightning the Chav and his *shudder* Crew can now take it to the next level and actually throw a punch. So to prove there Metal to the 13 year old Chavette following closely behind the Chavs will choose the most docile looking bloke (possibly even 2 if there feeling brave) and the fun begins. They will always have to justify why they have randomly started to hit you to the young Chavette and will usually do this by bumping into you and saying "Whadja call mi?" This must immediately be followed by a drunken punch at which point up to 4-8 fellow Chavs will commence "Givin' the lil' fag a right-good kickin'!"
All though this is a common event in Crawley on a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday & Sunday night, there is often a welcome respite on Monday nights as all the local pubs announces offers on upscale Chav drinks like WKD Blue (NEVER ORANGE!!!), Smirnoff Ice, Archers and Bacardi Breezers. This has the desired effect of getting the Chavs so slaughtered after there third or fourth bottle that they are force to stagger home haranguing and shouting and is by most people considered a council-run scheme to give the residents at least one night’s relative peace.
If you do by some unfortunate twist of fates find yourself in Crawley tried to avoid the Town Centre and any and all Street corners and alleyways. It is also prudent to avoid Broadfield and Bewbush or for the more adventurous among you, try to spot the single white minor without a sprog (if you don’t find one don’t be discouraged none of the locals have either). In fact your probably better of just running for Gatwick, which is always invested by hordes of Chavs and Chavettes, but is obliged by the government to offer cheap flights as a means for lost wanderers to flee the Town post-Haste.
As a final side bar I would like to tell you about a personal experience I had in Crawley. While committing the heinous crime of walking down the street with a friend wearing a leather coat, I had the displeasure of bumping into a Chav on the pull who had snared a young Chavette and was busy impressing her, by offering to beat up everyone in site. His gaze eventually fell on us and he taunted “Howz ‘bout I beat up those faggots!” which got rounds of pig-like chortling sounds from his Chavette. In response I dismissively gestured and calmly said “whatever,” forgetting that this is one of the Chavs sacred words. Angered by being dismissed in front of his potential shag, I was threatened with DEATH to which I calmly replied that it would be rather foolish as prison was a most unpleasant place to be. Further antagonism from him was met with an amused grin from me as he slotted perfectly into Chav Stereotype. Finally it was too much for him and after no less than 3 attempts he was able to break a bottle on a metal dumpster (cleanly break the bottle! A wet mackerel would have been sharper.) He then proceeded to hold the bottle against my chin while I talked forcing his hand to bounce up and down as my jaw bone pushed against the smooth glass. As a final gesture of bravado he attempted to thrust the bottle through my thick genuine leather coat and then threw the bottle at the ground smashing it and thus giving himself a dignified exit from which he could then walk away, Chavette in arms, with that choice phrase “you ain’t worf it!”
By this point you may have started believing that Chavs just go around stabbing and banging their bints in the well shadowed alleyways, but NO. There is another favoured pastime of your average Chav which CANNOT be overshadowed. I am of course referring to the Pint&Fight phenomenon that rules there lives. Of course pints are expensive and become troublesome to carry off to the local park bench or the Chav Mecca (the local Bus Station); hence Tescos has made a resolution to always have a special offer on 3littre bottles of white lightning!
Imbued with the newly found strength and power found at the bottom of a 3litre bottle of white lightning the Chav and his *shudder* Crew can now take it to the next level and actually throw a punch. So to prove there Metal to the 13 year old Chavette following closely behind the Chavs will choose the most docile looking bloke (possibly even 2 if there feeling brave) and the fun begins. They will always have to justify why they have randomly started to hit you to the young Chavette and will usually do this by bumping into you and saying "Whadja call mi?" This must immediately be followed by a drunken punch at which point up to 4-8 fellow Chavs will commence "Givin' the lil' fag a right-good kickin'!"
All though this is a common event in Crawley on a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday & Sunday night, there is often a welcome respite on Monday nights as all the local pubs announces offers on upscale Chav drinks like WKD Blue (NEVER ORANGE!!!), Smirnoff Ice, Archers and Bacardi Breezers. This has the desired effect of getting the Chavs so slaughtered after there third or fourth bottle that they are force to stagger home haranguing and shouting and is by most people considered a council-run scheme to give the residents at least one night’s relative peace.
If you do by some unfortunate twist of fates find yourself in Crawley tried to avoid the Town Centre and any and all Street corners and alleyways. It is also prudent to avoid Broadfield and Bewbush or for the more adventurous among you, try to spot the single white minor without a sprog (if you don’t find one don’t be discouraged none of the locals have either). In fact your probably better of just running for Gatwick, which is always invested by hordes of Chavs and Chavettes, but is obliged by the government to offer cheap flights as a means for lost wanderers to flee the Town post-Haste.
As a final side bar I would like to tell you about a personal experience I had in Crawley. While committing the heinous crime of walking down the street with a friend wearing a leather coat, I had the displeasure of bumping into a Chav on the pull who had snared a young Chavette and was busy impressing her, by offering to beat up everyone in site. His gaze eventually fell on us and he taunted “Howz ‘bout I beat up those faggots!” which got rounds of pig-like chortling sounds from his Chavette. In response I dismissively gestured and calmly said “whatever,” forgetting that this is one of the Chavs sacred words. Angered by being dismissed in front of his potential shag, I was threatened with DEATH to which I calmly replied that it would be rather foolish as prison was a most unpleasant place to be. Further antagonism from him was met with an amused grin from me as he slotted perfectly into Chav Stereotype. Finally it was too much for him and after no less than 3 attempts he was able to break a bottle on a metal dumpster (cleanly break the bottle! A wet mackerel would have been sharper.) He then proceeded to hold the bottle against my chin while I talked forcing his hand to bounce up and down as my jaw bone pushed against the smooth glass. As a final gesture of bravado he attempted to thrust the bottle through my thick genuine leather coat and then threw the bottle at the ground smashing it and thus giving himself a dignified exit from which he could then walk away, Chavette in arms, with that choice phrase “you ain’t worf it!”
pasty
A different kind of pasty
The Wookiee said:
lol
that's where I used to go at lunctime from school for a crafty fag. Never quite been able to work out why I went to school in Crawley when I lived in Haywards Heath.
Croydonbloke
Palace in Sussex
Can you smell Croydon from Crawley? Or does it mingle in well 
Hove&Albion F.C
New member
- May 15, 2004
- 790
Crawley = 
Cant stand the place- avoid it like the plague thesedays! Brighton by far my prefered choice for shopping when back from uni.
Cant stand the place- avoid it like the plague thesedays! Brighton by far my prefered choice for shopping when back from uni.
West Hoathly Seagull
Honorary Ruffian
I believe that Oxted was going to have the New Town inflicted on it, but they chose Crawley instead. I imagine it was because Gatwick Airport was near and the Brighton Main Line. Maybe Lord Bracknell can tell us why.
Strike
Sussex Border Front
They should have placed it at Oxted, Crawley still would have been a nice village/ small town to live in with people like me and wehatepalace plus Albion fans.
Last edited:
The Wookiee
Back From The Dead
- Thread starter
- #29
A mate who has read this thread just sent me this e-mail and has asked me to post this response.
Now, i have read the previous articles on Crawley and feel that they do this shitehole town justice. The main thing i would like to add is that i work there, in the great chav magnet that is county mall. What makes this bearable is that i have the good fortune to actually live in Balcombe, a tiny, quiet village a short drive away. I do, however work in one of the worst possible shops to work in, in a town as infested with chavs as Crawley. Ernest Jones is one of the more upscale high street jewellers and our branch is a Rolex dealer (i'm still trying to work out why on earth Crawley needs a Rolex dealer) i have heard some utter gems of chav quotes as you can probably imagine, my personal favorite was being handed a signet (and no, i don't mean soveriegn) ring the size of my head coupled with the words " ow much to get this smallened" I have never had to bite my tongue so hard in my life, before or since. There are also a set of benches right outside my shop. The number of benches within the building are limited, I imagine to stop too many chavs sitting on them (although one is clearly too many). Of course they have already spent their Giro's on white lightning and mayfairs so they dont come to county mall to shop but to, to, to, i still haven't worked out what they actually do there, i'll keep you posted if i ever work it out.
I will, i have just deided (and i do mean just this moment) approach the powers that be at county mall and ask for a soundproof room for the employees of the building, not neccesarily sounproof smoking facilities as they have already provided smoking areas. All i want is a place where i can sit on my lunchbreak safe in the knowledge that i wont hear a baby break into what is essentially Crawley's equivalent to birdsong. What I mean by that statement is if you live in, say a countryside village like me you cannot go a day without hearing a bird singing in it's disney-esque lovelyness. I have never done a day of work without uttering under my breath "remove your child" as the screaming brat tries to wrestle it's teenage mothers attention away from the Sterling silver and cubic zirconia or Burberry watch display. To close i would like to give you all a heart warming piece of information, i am how shall we say, a weapon in the war on chavs as i have the great pleasure (feel the jealousy rise up from your gut) to deflate their enormous ego's usually in front of their mates. An example:
Chav: oi mate how much is this Rolex worth?
Myself: let me take a look for you sir
I EXAMINE THE GOLD PLATED EXCUSE FOR A TIMEPIECE MOST LIKELY BOUGHT IN THAILAND, STIFLE AN OUTBURST AND POLITELY SAY
Myself: i'm afraid it's a counterfiet sir.
i could go on as they sometimes protest that i dont know what i'm doing and am a caaaant, but I shant. They generally leave the shop and I imagine piss on thier chav fathers grave for passing on nothing but humiliation in front of his Kappa wearing, 13 year old, trout faced, 20 inches diameter gold plate hoop wearing, already de-flowered, ikon/diva under 18s nite visiting (where 24 year old kev and stella probably met), cud chewing SLAPPER! Sorry i got carried away there. Chav scum. "
Now, i have read the previous articles on Crawley and feel that they do this shitehole town justice. The main thing i would like to add is that i work there, in the great chav magnet that is county mall. What makes this bearable is that i have the good fortune to actually live in Balcombe, a tiny, quiet village a short drive away. I do, however work in one of the worst possible shops to work in, in a town as infested with chavs as Crawley. Ernest Jones is one of the more upscale high street jewellers and our branch is a Rolex dealer (i'm still trying to work out why on earth Crawley needs a Rolex dealer) i have heard some utter gems of chav quotes as you can probably imagine, my personal favorite was being handed a signet (and no, i don't mean soveriegn) ring the size of my head coupled with the words " ow much to get this smallened" I have never had to bite my tongue so hard in my life, before or since. There are also a set of benches right outside my shop. The number of benches within the building are limited, I imagine to stop too many chavs sitting on them (although one is clearly too many). Of course they have already spent their Giro's on white lightning and mayfairs so they dont come to county mall to shop but to, to, to, i still haven't worked out what they actually do there, i'll keep you posted if i ever work it out.
I will, i have just deided (and i do mean just this moment) approach the powers that be at county mall and ask for a soundproof room for the employees of the building, not neccesarily sounproof smoking facilities as they have already provided smoking areas. All i want is a place where i can sit on my lunchbreak safe in the knowledge that i wont hear a baby break into what is essentially Crawley's equivalent to birdsong. What I mean by that statement is if you live in, say a countryside village like me you cannot go a day without hearing a bird singing in it's disney-esque lovelyness. I have never done a day of work without uttering under my breath "remove your child" as the screaming brat tries to wrestle it's teenage mothers attention away from the Sterling silver and cubic zirconia or Burberry watch display. To close i would like to give you all a heart warming piece of information, i am how shall we say, a weapon in the war on chavs as i have the great pleasure (feel the jealousy rise up from your gut) to deflate their enormous ego's usually in front of their mates. An example:
Chav: oi mate how much is this Rolex worth?
Myself: let me take a look for you sir
I EXAMINE THE GOLD PLATED EXCUSE FOR A TIMEPIECE MOST LIKELY BOUGHT IN THAILAND, STIFLE AN OUTBURST AND POLITELY SAY
Myself: i'm afraid it's a counterfiet sir.
i could go on as they sometimes protest that i dont know what i'm doing and am a caaaant, but I shant. They generally leave the shop and I imagine piss on thier chav fathers grave for passing on nothing but humiliation in front of his Kappa wearing, 13 year old, trout faced, 20 inches diameter gold plate hoop wearing, already de-flowered, ikon/diva under 18s nite visiting (where 24 year old kev and stella probably met), cud chewing SLAPPER! Sorry i got carried away there. Chav scum. "
Last edited:
tinx
Well-known member
excellent ranting......
Brighton Breezy
New member
I hate Crawley.
Horsham is much better.
Horsham is much better.
Brighton Breezy
New member
I used to love going to watch Horsham vs Crawley games because it was a great excuse to go Chav Bating.
Any Horsham posters remember the great FA Cup games? Thousands packed in to Queen Street and we should have won as the Crawley goalie handled outside the box then bought down the striker in the penalty area only for the ref to give a free kick and book him.
Got turned over in the replay.
Any Horsham posters remember the great FA Cup games? Thousands packed in to Queen Street and we should have won as the Crawley goalie handled outside the box then bought down the striker in the penalty area only for the ref to give a free kick and book him.
Got turned over in the replay.