Sunday, 31 August 2008

I'm married to a chav

Another day, another shocking discovery: Vanessa has become a chav.

This is a most disheartening situation, not to mention unforeseen.

I mean, she comes from a good family, her personal hygiene is of an acceptable standard, she doesn't have a hair bauble to her name never mind big hooped earrings, she doesn't own a baseball cap and I've only ever seen her drink in the street from a pub glass and never from a brown paper bag.

But thinking about it, barely a day now goes past without her taking Jamie out for at least one push in the pram and maybe the lifestyles of other local pram pushers have rubbed off on her.

Whatever the truth, she went shopping the other day - yes, with her pram or "accessory" as I should now more properly call it - and came back with a chav handbag (pictured above).

I only discovered this yesterday and obviously decided to find out why.

"I got it from a charity shop, innit," she sought to explain. "It's phat."

"I beg your pardon, young lady," I replied. "It's a chav handbag and I'm fearful that you may have stumbled on to a very slippery slope. What are you intending to come home with next? A shell suit? Vanessa, pull back. I beseech you."

"Don't zaggerate man," responded Mrs White. "And don't be such a div neever. The bag's wicked. Now chill it down and show some respect for the lady, aaiiii."

I really am very disappointed in her and even a little hurt.

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