Being a chav or scally is like embracing idiocy as a way of life. It’s like admitting, ‘yeah people are gonna think I’m as dumb as a rock and that’s fine’. Accepting that your career will be a varied choice of either cleaning out rubbish or doing simple manual labour as a tradie. That your interests will be small and narrow like your brain.
You may recall a time when such ideas were off-putting or ‘wrong’. Back when you had misguided aspirations to make something of your life. But then you saw how much easier it was to do just the bare minimum in life. Why spend all your free time worrying about ‘the future’ when instead you can loiter about and do fuck all. Coasting by. You saw others do it, doing nothing. Dropping out of higher education to end up as binmen, or working at McDonald’s. They seemed happier, more carefree.
Nothing. You could do nothing too. You wagered that it didn’t take much effort to do nothing. You could give your brain a much needed rest. Of course that’s how it always starts. A ‘rest’, a ‘break’. ‘Just for a little bit’. It’s not long before you catch yourself struggling to find the appropriate words in an interview. The ‘huhs?’ and ‘whats?’. The swears slipping out at inappropriate moments. The unconscious way you start to adjust your cock when out and about. The increasing habit of just shutting off your thoughts when someone talks for more than 30 seconds. Sliding further and further into that idealised image of a chav, a scally. A thick head.
Eventually, someone calls you a moron and it just clicks. A moron. Yeah, that was what you were. What you wanted to be. Something even you could aim for. How did it take you so long to realise? Well, obviously, it was because you were a moron. The thought makes you chuckle dimly. It’s at that point where there’s no going back. Not that you wanted to anyway. You were having so much fun not having to care, about anything. Everything else happens so quickly. Shaving your head, buying a bunch of gear. Picking the football team that would define your personality. Leaving your stressful job and getting your new hi-vis uniform. It was a blur. Soon enough, you find yourself standing outside your new flat in your dirty tracksuit, sipping a lager. You know it’s all over the second someone shouts out ‘mate’ to you in the street and you repeat the word back, slowly.
It’s then you know. Know, you truly are a complete and utter idiot.
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