Diary of a Chav

by Grace Dent

  For the next hour we drove around the one-way streets in Ilford very slowly, beeping horns at other people that Bezzie and Wesley knew who were driving Citroën Saxos and Ford Orions. We couldn’t talk to each other ’cos the music was so loud, but it was well exciting. Eventually Bezzie said he was hungry and Carrie said she was too and they both said they wanted a Burger King and I said, “Well I’m not hungry,” and so did Wesley ’cos he’d just eaten two Pepperamis and a big packet of Cadbury’s mini-eggs. Then — before I knew what was happening — I’d been dropped off at the far side of Goodmayes with Wesley Barrington Bains II standing beside me on the curb and Carrie shouting that she would text us and pick us up in half an hour as her and Bezzie wanted some “quality time” alone. THEN THEY DROVE OFF!

  I looked at Wesley and he looked at me then he burst out laughing. “Your mate is a mentalist,” he said, shaking his head. I didn’t know what to say ’cos I was really angry and dreaming up some sort of bad revenge against Carrie for dropping me, like telling Wesley to tell Bezzie that Carrie got her period last year at Laserquest when she was wearing white jeans and had to walk back with her hoodie wrapped round her mufty area ’cos she looked like something off Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Then I decided to just go home and blank Carrie’s calls.

  “Chill out, Shiraz. They’ll be back soon anyway, innit?” said Wesley. I just tutted and folded my arms. I didn’t say a word for about a minute ’cos I was raging. “’Ere, do you wanna watch Channel U at mine for a bit?” he said. “I only live on the next cul-de-sac.”

  I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, ’spose,” I said.

  We walked along the road together at first saying nothing, then Wesley said, “Oi, y’know, I been thinking about that superchav stuff I said about Mayflower when I first met you. Sorry Shiz, I was out of order.”

  So I shrugged and I said, “No worries mate.”

  And he said, “I was only saying it ’cos that’s what the boys on my plumbing NVQ call Mayflower, y’know, ‘Superchav Academy’?”

  I couldn’t help smiling then and I said, “Oh bring it on bruv, I’ve heard it all.” And then I said, “It’s sweet being a superchav really.” Then we both laughed for ages and chatted about the Brunton-Fletchers down my road ’cos they ARE superchavs.

  So we went to Wesley’s house and his car was sitting outside in the drive — it’s a Golf and it’s banana-yellow with a big spoiler on the back. We went into his house through the back door into the kitchen. It was proper clean and modern and tidy with no clutter. “Minimalist” as my mum would say. “I want our gaff to be minimalist!” she always says when she sees it on Sixty Minute Makeover. My mum could never be minimalist, she’d have to get rid of all that horse brass that Nan gave her and her porcelain Victorian figurine collection that she built up month by month out of the News of The World magazine and the millions of copies of Chat, Pick Me Up, and Sky TV magazine that she always eats her dinner off, and worst of all Murphy, who is not minimalist at all, because he is a giant who smells of farts.

  Anyway, Wesley’s house hasn’t got any of this clutter. It’s all cream carpet and white formica and no fuss. I asked him if his mum and dad were home and he said his mum was at work ’cos she works in admin at Romford ice rink, and then he didn’t mention his dad so I reckon he ain’t got one. Then we found a note on the side from his mother saying: Wes — if you’re home about 5 PM can you stick the oven on 200 and shove a spud in for me? and Wesley rolled his eyes and laughed and said, “’Ere Shiraz, make sure you remind me,” and I said I would.

  We sat in the lounge, him on the chair and me on the couch and watched Bliss and Channel U and I tried to just watch the new Killa Kela video and not look at Wesley much as I kept thinking he had well nice green eyes and there was something sort of kind about him that I’d never noticed before. We were reading out the text messages scrolling across the bottom of the screen and laughing and talking about how being locked up in jail always looks like a good laugh on Channel U ’cos you spend all your time weightlifting and doing dance routines, which we both know isn’t true, ’cos you spend your time wanting to get out.

  I was having a really good time then, ’cos Wesley is well easy to talk to for a boy. Then Carrie and Bezzie turned up, and Carrie said that me and her should go back to Draperville ’cos her dad would be looking for her. As we left I said, “’Ere Wesley, remember that spud.”

  And he winked and tapped his nose and said, “It’s all in order, Shizza.”

  Then I said “See ya” and I left the house and my heart was thumping like mad and I felt a bit sick again.

  On the way up the road Carrie was twittering on and on and on about Bezzie Kelleher and how totally wonderful and amazing he is, and how she wants to go to a car cruise in Southend with him, and then she said, “’Ere Shiz, do you fancy Wesley Barrington Bains II at all yet?”

  And I just laughed at her and said, “No way!” ’cos I don’t.

  WEDNESDAY 9TH APRIL

  Tilak Foods

  Unit 57

  Bishop Fledding Industrial Estate

  Goodmayes

  Essex

  IG5 9PH

  Dear Miss Wood,

  We are pleased to inform you that we can offer you a work placement at Tilak Foods this summer, monitoring and spectating on the daily work at our factory.

  The dates we can offer are 2nd to 13th June.

  The working hours will be from 8 AM until 4:30 PM.

  A minibus service is available from the town center to transport you to the factory. Please see attached page for times and collection points.

  Please can you confirm, as soon as possible, that these dates are suitable.

  Yours sincerely,

  Kashaf Reman — PA to Mr. Tilak

  SUNDAY 14TH APRIL

  Got up at 11 AM today and Mum had gone with Dad to Allied Carpets to get some new lino for the kitchen and Cava-Sue was still out at her mate Luella’s and Carrie was at her nan’s and Murphy was at Tariq’s and I had no one to talk to aside from the dog and I was totally bored and for some reason kept thinking about Wesley Barrington Bains II. I dunno why. I just kept thinking it would be good to see him and watch Channel U with him again — just as a mate, nothing else — which is stupid ’cos I don’t even know him. In the end I thought I might as well have a go at my English homework ’cos Ms. Bracket has been right on my case recently and I can’t be dealing with her ’cos I think she must have OCD or high-functioning Aspergers or something ’cos she is OBSESSED with GCSEs. The homework was a topic Ms. Bracket keeps going on about all the time which is “writing to argue, persuade, and advise.”

  “This is a vital part of the curriculum!” she keeps saying.

  Basically we had to think of an imaginary situation like a nightmare holiday, then write an argument to the manager arguing our point. “This should be right up your street, Shiraz Wood!” Ms. Bracket said and winked at me. I gave her one of my best “Uma” looks.

  So anyway, I went into Murphy’s room and used the computer to type. It turns out our computer ISN’T AS BROKEN as Murphy makes out and the printer still works and the dial-up connection is bloody fine. MURPHY IS A TOTAL LIAR. I looked at Wesley’s MySpace for a while. He looks dead sexy in some of his pics.

  Anyway, it took me ages to do this homework ’cos it is all totally imaginary, but I think it’s not bad.

  Dear Mr. Manager,

  Re: Club Coco Loco, Tenerife, Spain

  I am writing to complain about a holiday that I have just spent in your Club Coco Loco, Tenerife, with my mate, Carrie, in July this year.

  I have just spent two weeks of sheer unmitigated hell in a half-finished hotel, what was advertised as “the most stunning jewel in the crown of this fabulous island.” Well if this is your most stunning jewel mate, you ain’t got much bling bruv, ’cos this place was a right state and you are a proper liberty sending anyone there.

  Lots of things jacked me off but the main one is that there were no
facilities whatsoeva. Those gyms and golf course you were going on about are still covered in cement mixers. And there are workmen everywhere with their hairy bum clefts hanging out of their trousers. Minging.

  And the so-called shopping mall was just a few old Spanish duffers selling a right load of old tat out of barrows. I’ve seen better stuff in the rubbish bins after Walthamstow market.

  We was warned by the woman in the travel shop that the weather could be “changeable.” That’s one way of putting it. It pissed it down for a fortnight. And a further reason I am narked right off is that we flew from Manchester up north ’cos the flights were meant to be cheaper than Gatwick, then it was delayed so we missed nearly a day of our holiday sitting in Manchester Airport’s departure lounge which was full of northerners all talking in weird voices about Coronation Street and eating egg sandwiches that they had brought from home.

  This brings me to my next area of complaint. The hotel food. There was nothing I liked apart from the cheese croquettes and the curry sauce. Your brochure stated food was “plentiful and traditional” and that it was available day and night. Well they stopped the croquettes at 8 PM so that weren’t true either, WAS IT?

  But the thing we are most livid about is the “nightlife.” It said in the brochure there was “nightlife to suit all tastes.” Well yeah, if your taste is getting off with some forty-year-old munter and dancing to ten-year-old UK garage then you will be well sorted, mate. Me and my mate Carrie ended up playing Travel Connect Four every night and even Carrie couldn’t find no one to get off with and believe me she ain’t fussy.

  Therefore, after having endured two weeks of this ordeal, I feel that my friend and I are deserving of at least a sizeable comp or we will be forced to take this matter further and may release our photographs to the bloke off Watchdog who will expose you for the right bunch of cowboys that you are.

  Yours sincerely,

  Shiraz Bailey Wood

  MONDAY 15TH APRIL

  BACK TO SCHOOL — I gave Ms. Bracket the “writing to argue, persuade, and advise” homework today at the beginning of class, then we all sat down and read some war poetry by ourselves while Ms. Bracket did some grading. It was quiet for a while then suddenly Ms. Bracket started to laugh. Everyone looked up ’cos Ms. Bracket don’t laugh that much. She is usually well serious. It was really nice to see her face all lit up like a lightbulb, she looked all young again, and she isn’t, she’s about thirty-three. She tried to stop herself laughing by putting her hands in her face, then she started again even louder and her head went back and her mouth opened and I could see her silver fillings. Then eventually she said, “Excuse me please, class 10W,” and she walked into the corridor and we could all hear her howling like a mad woman outside. Eventually she came back in with a serious face again and sat down and got her red pen out.

  At the end of the class as I was leaving Ms. Bracket called me over and gave me back my “writing to argue” homework. She says if I take out the swearing and slang words and “double negatives” and sort out some of the spelling she’ll give me an A–.

  I am not telling anyone like Carrie or Kezia or Luther about it ’cos it’ll get around the class and I’ll get called a swot and a suck-ass but I am WELL HAPPY.

  THURSDAY 18TH APRIL

  Carrie came round tonight and we sat in the kitchen and watched EastEnders on Mum’s kitchen telly and ate ice-pops and talked about Kezia Marshall’s new hair ’cos she tried to dye it “raunchy auburn” last night when it’s red and it’s gone a bit green at the sides and some of the lads are calling her swampbeast.

  Carrie says that Bezzie and Wesley are DEFINITELY going to a car cruise in Southend next Friday night and am I gonna come, ’cos she could tell her dad she’s coming here and I could tell my mum I’m at Draperville and then as long as no mums ring each other we’ll be sweet. I said no. I said I don’t wanna go to a car cruise ’cos I don’t like riding about in cars ’cos I get carsick.

  This wasn’t true. I do like riding about in cars but I am still fizzing with Carrie for leaving me on the curb near Wesley’s house that Saturday. I think that was totally disrespectful to me as a mate and I certainly don’t wanna get dumped in Southend if she does it again. Carrie would NEVER EVER do anything like that usually. She is a top girl and my best friend ever since Year Seven. This is all since she met Bezzie Kelleher. Sometimes I feel like she likes Bezzie almost as much as she likes me and it freaks me out.

  “Oh come on Shiz, it’ll be such a laugh! Three hundred cars are coming from all over Essex!” she said. “They do burn-outs and donuts and stuff!”

  “I can get donuts at Asda,” I said.

  “Not them sort of donuts,” she said.

  We sat and said nothing for a while.

  “God, Shiraz, you’ve really got bad vibes about Wesley Barrington Bains II, ain’t you?” Carrie said.

  “I ain’t got NO vibes about Wesley Barrington Bains II!” I said, then my mum came in, probably to change the batteries on her sonic ear trumpet that she uses to find out everything that happens in Goodmayes ever.

  “Wesley Barrington Bains II?” said my mum.

  “Gnnnnno,” I grunted, then I stared at the telly.

  “You know him, do you?” she said.

  “Yeah a bit,” said Carrie. I scowled at Carrie to shut up.

  “I knew Wesley Barrington Bains the First,” said Mum. “He used to come in the social club all the time, terrible nice fella he was. Mad keen on cars.”

  I tried to pretend I wasn’t listening but I totally was.

  “What happened to him?” said Carrie.

  “Oh . . . it was a terrible business,” said Mum. “He was home one day looking after his little lad, right as rain, then when his missus came home from work . . . he was laid out flat on the living room floor, stone-cold dead! The little lad playing with his toys beside him. Heart attack! Only thirty-two he was. The little boy just thought he was sleeping. There was bloody hundreds down at that crematorium. Horses and carriages. The lot. They still live in that house y’know. Over near Dawson Drive.”

  Mum grabbed a fudgesicle out of the freezer and disappeared back into the lounge.

  Me and Carrie sat for a while and said nothing. I felt a bit raw in the back of my throat.

  “Me and Bez reckon he likes you,” Carrie said.

  “Oh shut up,” I said.

  WEDNESDAY 23RD APRIL

  I was really bored today at school ’cos I’ve totally lost track of what Mr. Gilligan is going on about in geography, then in math we were doing statistics and they are bleeding tedious. Then at break Carrie was going on about Bezzie and Southend again, then after lunch it was double hockey and I thought, balls to this, I’m off home. So I walked, with Carrie and Kezia, in the general direction of PE, then as I got to the gym I just kept walking past the changing-room door and out of the building and out of the back gates and down the road and on to the 239 bus toward home. The trick is all in your expression. Never EVER look like you shouldn’t be going somewhere and usually you don’t get stopped.

  So I get home and I get into bed and reckon I’ll have two hours’ kip before Mum’s due in from work, then I’ll get up and walk round the block and come home at the same time as ever. EASY. So I’m just drifting into a nice dream (about Wesley, if you must know) when the front door opens downstairs! MY HEART NEARLY STOPPED. So I pull the whole duvet over my head and a few pillows too and try to stop breathing ’cos if it’s Mum she will kill me with her bare hands ’cos I have promised on Nan’s life to her I won’t skive any more since the Year Nine suspension.

  Then I hear Cava-Sue go, “Nah, there’s never anyone here during the day,” and Lewis go, “Are you sure? ’Cos your mum will go mad if you’re skiving as well as scrounging off the state.” Then they both laugh. Now the thing is, even though Cava-Sue is skiving, if she finds out I’m skiving I KNOW she’ll grass me up at some other time and I’ll still get killed, so I crouch in a ball and play dead.

  T
hey both come upstairs and they’re laughing and talking about college and going down Blackhorse Road to their mate’s flat then going to a pub in Camden, then they fall through the bedroom door and I should have shouted then, “LOOK!! CAVA-SUE, I’M HERE, ALL RIGHT!!” but I didn’t ’cos I wanted to earwig on them a bit more, but then — AND THIS IS THE REALLY REALLY BAD BIT — I heard them both climbing up the bunk-bed ladder and getting into bed and all I could hear then was them snogging and making squelchy sounds and through the crack in the duvet I saw Cava-Sue’s leopard-skin bra go flying past on to the floor, then the bunk bed BEGAN TO SHAKE and Lewis was making a sort of asthmatic sound and Cava-Sue was going, “Yeah! Ooh! Yeah! Oooooooh Lewy!” and I buried my head under all the covers and felt really really vomitous and I wish I could wash my brain in Comet ’cos the sound of them doing whatever they were doing will be with me until the DAY THAT I DIE.

  CAVA-SUE — I WISH YOU WOULD MOVE OUT.

  FRIDAY 25TH APRIL

  I still cannot look at Cava-Sue without feeling ill.

  Carrie is going to Southend tonight. I’ve told her that she better not say she’s at mine ’cos if Barney rings I’m not saying she’s popped to the chippy and has her cell off again as he knows full well I’m faking. Carrie says she won’t. I’m glad I’m not going. It sounds rubbish anyhow. Just loads of sitting about. Carrie says Wesley will be sad I’m not coming ’cos he asked Bezzie to ask Carrie if I was going to come tonight. I know this isn’t true. This is just Carrie making stuff up to make me feel like less of a cling-on with her and Bezzie. I know Wesley would never be bothered about what someone like me was doing. I know he probably doesn’t even remember that day with Channel U and the baked potato and the superchav conversation. Not like I do anyhow.