For this particular blog I am going to need to give you Sydneysiders a quick British lesson. It is essential that you be familiar with the word: Chav. So what is a chav I hear you ask? Neither the Macquarie dictionary nor the legendary Wikipedia can help you with this one. It is something you must see and experience for yourself. A chav is the scum of England, a junkie, a young alcoholic, someone who trollops throughout the streets in track pants, visors and hoop earrings, lives for getting plastered in dinghy pubs, causing a riot wherever they go and speaking like the uneducated, uncivilised hobos they are – it is possibly the equivalent of a ‘lad’.
So now that you have been equipped with the meaning of this special word ‘chav’ I can continue to tell you about our Friday night last night. The usual weekend trio – Jason, Kelly and I – headed to our usual hangout Dalston for a couple of drinks, weren’t anticipating TOO outrageous of a night to come of it. After going to the disappointingly empty Moustache Bar and listening to Jason’s hot new Gaydar stories we reluctantly relocated to some shabby pub on the corner contemplating just calling it a night. We didn’t realise it when we first walked in, but we had walked into “Freak Paradise”. As the night progressed, the drinks flowed and the funky old school music played, the freaks of the night came out of their hiding caves and all congregated in this one random pub. I think it’s safe to say there was not one normal person there. It was an eclectic mix of rowdy old Brazilian tourists, pirates, one-toothed Italian perves, dikes on bikes and of course the infamous CHAVS.
I’ll take you through the members of Freak Paradise one by one in chronological order:
1. THE ONE-TOOTHED ITALIAN PERVE PASQUALI
The title is quite self-explanatory but basically Pasquali was hovering around the DJ booth by himself, sipping on his whiskey and sporadically requesting music to the DJ and telling him off in Italian when the request was ignored. Kelly and Jase were watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to break out into dance, and before they knew it Pasquali started jiving on the dancefloor alone, revealing his unsettling one-toothed smile.
2. CAPTAIN HOOK
This man clearly thought he was still stuck in Neverland. Captain Hook waltzed in the pub in his long black drapes, boots, grey frazzled long hair and a fucking eye patch. All he needed to complete the outfit was a green parrot sitting on his shoulder. AIGH AIGH CAPTAIN!
3. BARTHELONIAN TURTLE-NECK-ADORNED CONOZUELA
Picture a middle-aged woman wearing a warm beige turtle neck, a ¾ length denim skirt and patent clogs dancing to Michael Jackson tunes and you get Conozuela, freak #3. This lost naïve soul thought she had groove but, oh no my brother, this tragic woman was a painfully hopeless dancer. Jason was eyeing her the whole night, praying for the opportunity to take to the floor with her but he missed the boat.
4. SOMERSAULT SAM
This one is possibly our most cherished of all the freaks. He decided it would be a great idea to take off his beanie, reveal his shiny bald head and start doing rolley polleys on the alcohol saturated grimy floor in the middle of the pub to the beat of Stevie Wonder. Vodka cranberry rapidly squirted out of our mouths as we made room for our thunderous laughter. I’m pretty sure I burnt off all the carbs from the pizza I had for dinner just by laughing at Somersault Sam.
5. THE DRUNKEN CHAVS
No explanation is needed for these two special lads, I’ll let the photos speak for themselves:
We had been pissing ourselves laughing the whole night watching these two fellas downing blue shot after blue shot at the bar, taking photos of themselves on their phones and then screaming “FACEBOOK TAGGAGE”, pacing around outside clenching their fists looking for a fight, dancing like techno pansies on the floor and passing out on the leather couches every 25mins or so.
When the clock hit midnight something possessed them to think it was a good idea to come and annoy Kelly and I. They were dumbfounded to find out that we were actually Australian, and not Brazilian like they initially thought we were. One of them kept raving on about his sexual experiences to Kelly, showing her naked photos of his ex-gf, boasting about how he’s had sex 80 times in a month and how he’s had sex bent over a quad bike or something ridiculous. Meanwhile the other chav (who was only 19 years old) tried to fool me into believing that he was a mastermind genius in an “advanced law degree” and had almost finished the course at the age of 19. YEAH FUCKING RIGHT! They were also that stupid to believe me when I told them that Jason was me and Kelly’s boyfriend whom we shared. I said Jason was mine from Sunday to Wednesday and Kelly’s From Thursdays to Saturdays.
Best friends for life!
Jason getting his groove on with his 2 new pals
Jason felt so inspired and aroused by these new Chav friends of ours that he has decided that the theme for his upcoming house warming party will be….. CHAVS. It’s going to be the most fucking hilarious dress up party ever! We’ve already got out outfits planned. Stained tank tops, holed track pants, fluoro visors, slicked back high pony tails and hoop earrings it is!
On the way home we saw this gangster man with the cutest dog we’d ever seen that was being playful and disobeying its master by running around everywhere and going up to strangers like us. We all melted at its feet when it approached us “Awwwww how cute! HALLO CUTIE! Bla bla bla….” Jason asked the owner what the dog’s name was, expecting something innocent and sweet. The robust, masculine and quite scary owner responded “HUSTLE” and Jason in his finest feminine camp Mr G voice replied “Ohhhhhh what a cuteee name!!!” The gangster owner didn’t really appreciate it.
For the rest of the trip home Jason and Kelly decided to use me for their late night entertainment and started making “Shania Twain” jokes directed at me because I was wearing a leopard coat. And particularly because I had buttoned it up because I was freezing and only wearing a t-shirt underneath it – of course as we all know Kelly would prefer to look a bit more “cooler” than to feel warm and comfortable hence she couldn’t justify why I would do such a thing.
Four Weeks with the Queen. 