Diary of a Chav

by Grace Dent

  I watched this all day long. I must have seen nine hundred billion bloody koftas. The lady I was watching with today was called Mrs. Santosh Sandu. She was dead nice. Santosh says Tuesdays are much more exciting ’cos they make onion bhajis.

  TUESDAY 3RD JUNE

  They make bhaji pretty much the same as you do kofta. Today was really boring. I counted to six all day. At 3 PM Santosh let me pull the lever “for a treat.”

  WEDNESDAY 4TH JUNE

  Six in a box. One-two-three-four-five-six. Repeat six times. One-two-three-four-five-six. Pull the lever. One-two-three-four-five-six. I kept waking up in the night last night muttering and kicking and counting to six. Then I got out of bed sleepwalking to look for that bloody metal pole they use to stick up the chute and unblock the pakoras. Cava-Sue had to put me back into bed, then she sat on the side of my bunk for a while and held my hand just like she did when I was a little girl and I had bad dreams.

  I think Tilak Foods is doing my head in.

  THURSDAY 5TH JUNE

  HOW CAN IT BE ONLY THURSDAY? HOW!!!! I nearly chucked a sickie today but Cava-Sue stopped me. I spoke to Carrie on my lunchbreak. She is having a right old giggle at her work experience. Somehow she’s working for her dad in the offices at Draper Hydration!! This is completely against the rules. Like I said, Mr. Brightwell from the careers office is proper useless. For the first three days she just watched Legally Blonde I and II on her dad’s new MacBook Pro and tested out the whirlpool baths. I could do with a whirlpool bath. I smell like one big giant lamb kofta. Murphy says I stink like I should come with sauce and salad.

  FRIDAY 6TH JUNE

  Santosh and all the other ladies were in a happier mood today ’cos they got paid. I found out that the pay at Tilak’s is £5.50 an hour. That is almost £11,800 a year. I asked Santosh how much that was a week and she said £188.97 after income tax and national insurance. I asked her what that was and she laughed and said, “If you don’t know I envy you.”

  £188.97? That sounds like quite a lot. I told my mother and she said, “Yeah, but you’d be giving me at least £50 a week for your lodgings, I’m not having two of you BLOODSUCKERS bleeding me dry.” Then Cava-Sue gave Mum a filthy look and then they started swearing at each other about money and Cava-Sue getting “above herself.” They were getting on so well this week too.

  SATURDAY 7TH JUNE

  Me and Carrie went to the Cinema today to see Oh My Gosh I Love Him!! starring the Olsen Twins. It was Barney Draper’s treat to cheer Carrie up after a long week at work. A LONG WEEK AT WORK? HA HA HA! Excuse me while I die laughing. Carrie admitted that on Friday her and her mother went to Cheeky’s Vertical Tanning and Collette Brown did them both a special Extra-Brown Ten-Minute Onyx Spray-Tan. Carrie is now almost as brown as Mrs. Obdulu who makes the bhajis at Tilak Foods AND MRS. OBDULU IS FROM THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO.

  Oh My Gosh I Love Him!! was really crap. Carrie thought it was amazing. She said it “totally, like, showed what it’s like to open your heart to someone.” I thought I was going to vom up when she said that. And not just ’cos I’d eaten about £4.47 worth of gummies.

  MONDAY 9TH JUNE

  Week Two at Tilak’s. OH MY GOD I PROPER HATE IT HERE. I hate the way you have to be here exactly at 8 AM and not one minute later or you’re in trouble and you can’t even go for a wee or look at a text message or change your tampon without getting permission off two people and ticking it off on a clipboard. I hate the way you can’t wear lipgloss or earrings to make you look less like a munter. I hate that there is nothing to think about all day long except the bhajis and the pakoras and whether the chute is blocked, and I hate the way everyone is quite sad all the time and complaining about the money and bitching about Mr. Tilak and Mrs. Reman in the office who they blame for everything. And I hate how the Sikh women think the Polish women are snobby and want their jobs for their Polish friends, and the Somalian women are quite depressed and one of them called Farah Garaad bursts into tears a lot ’cos she misses her sons and wants them to come here to England from Mogadishu but they can’t because they’re in a war. I’ve sort of made friends with Mercedes, who is about twenty-six, but her sense of humor is well mucky and she keeps asking me if I am a virgin and accusing me of being a lezzer.

  I stared at the clock from the moment I got there today and I swear it took SIX TIMES as long to go round to 4 PM. I MISS MAYFLOWER ACADEMY.

  TUESDAY 10TH JUNE

  At lunch today I sat at the vending machine with Mercedes. She asked me if I was coming back to Tilak’s for a job next year and I said, “Maybe. But just for a bit until I’m old enough to do Big Brother.” Mercedes laughed then and said that she wants to do Big Brother too. Mercedes says she always takes a sickie each year to go to the big audition in Victoria Dock in London, but there’s always about five thousand folk there and you stand in the rain all day and she never gets past the first set of questions, which is totally unfair as she’s got a lot to offer and would bring all sorts of “controversialitiness” to the house. Even I know that’s not a word.

  Mercedes says she’s been at Tilak Foods eight years. Mercedes says it is the most money that she can earn with no GCSEs or anything. She’s always skint. Mercedes still lives with her mum. I must have looked a bit sad then ’cos she said, “’Ere Shiraz, don’t stress too much about Big Brother. They’re always looking for people for TV shows!” Mercedes says she’s applied next for a show called Fast-Track Family Feud on ITV2 where you all sit on a stage in front of an audience and discuss your family problems. I asked her if her family was having a feud and she said, “Well not right now but probably soon ’cos my sister is a right dirty trollop.”

  THURSDAY 12TH JUNE

  Oh god. At Tilak’s today I was feeling proper baffled by what I AM GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE ’cos believe me THIS IS NOT IT when all of a sudden Mrs. Obdulu started making a weird sound and so did Farah Garaad and when I looked around, Adrianna, one of the Polish women, had her hands over her mouth and her face was quite green. “It’s a rat! A rat!” Farah was shouting and everyone started screaming and jumping up on chairs.

  Then Mrs. Obdulu shouted, “Not on the floor, you silly women — in the bhaji!!” and we all crowded up to the chute where the bhajis were plopping out and Mrs. Obdulu held up one and it had A LITTLE FOOT STICKING OUT and as we looked closer you could see all the little bhaji balls were full of blood and guts and bits of snout and hair.

  “Oh not again!” said Mercedes, then she ran to the rubbish bin and threw up.

  “Oh lord!” shouted Mrs. Obdulu. “Someone has left the trap open last night and another rat has fallen into the pan!” And all of a sudden I began to feel really really sick. My eyes felt misty and I turned around and started to stagger across the factory floor and as far away from the chute as I could go. Then I stumbled out of the factory door and into the road and then I just went a bit mad and began to run down through the industrial park and on to the main road and then I just kept on going and I thought I AM NEVER EVER GOING BACK THERE EVER AGAIN and I didn’t even know where the hell I was and I just kept running and people were tooting their horns and shouting stuff at me from vans ’cos I looked like such a nutter in my wellies and hat.

  Then suddenly a car pulled up beside me and I ignored it and kept on going and then a bloke’s voice shouted, “Oi! Shiraz! Is that you, innit?” but I ignored him and then the voice said, “Shiraz! It’s me innit!” and when I turned around it was a banana-yellow Golf and in the driver’s seat was Wesley Barrington Bains II!

  I stopped and my mouth fell open.

  “Shiraz! What’s wrong?” he shouted.

  I couldn’t speak.

  “Do you want a lift home?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Come on, get in,” he said.

  I got in the car and it felt warm and safe and it smelled of magic tree air fresheners and then I started to cry and Wesley held my hand.

  I told Wesley about the mashed-up rat. He took me to Bu
rger King drive-thru and bought me a hot coffee with sugar in it ’cos he said it was good for shock then he drove me home to Thundersley Road.

  I know he’s with Dee-Dee now but I am so happy that I have him as a friend.

  10 PM — Wesley must have rang Carrie on the way home ’cos she turned up with a box of Quality Street chocolates. We sat on my bed and listened to Hip Hop Divas. Carrie says the world of work is a right old pain up the ass and she’s thinking of staying on in Mayflower Sixth Form. I know what she means.

  THURSDAY 19TH JUNE

  This is TOP SECRET but I am really happy to be back at Mayflower with Carrie and Luther and Kezia and Sean Burton and everyone. I was even pleased to see Ms. Bracket. “So how was the factory?” she asked when I walked into English.

  “Totally wack,” I said.

  And she laughed and said, “Well let’s do our best to keep you out of there, eh, Miss Wood?”

  And I shrugged and said, “Whatever.”

  I gave in my English homework today. The task was to write about a sad situation through the eyes of someone else and demonstrate “empathy.” I wrote about a day-in-the-life of a Somalian woman who lives in Ilford who misses her sons in Mogadishu and has to pull dead rats’ feet out of the bhaji mix all day.

  MONDAY 23RD JUNE

  Ms. Bracket said my homework was “very gritty and moving” and “showed a lot of empathy.” I didn’t even try that hard either. Ms. Bracket gave me an A–. But I’m keeping that on a strictly need-to-know basis.

  Only this diary needs to know.

  JULY

  TUESDAY 1ST JULY

  I was eating a bowl of Coco-Chocko Clusters and watching a GM TV exclusive about Peter Andre’s new dog kennel when Mum made a funny “Ooh” sound. She was reading a card the postman had just brought.

  “What?” I said.

  “Very exciting news,” she said, then she lit up a Lucky Strike and got out her bright pink lipstick and began drawing on her mouth like she always does before work. “We have been cordially invited,” Mum said in her best la-di-dah voice, “to the Draper Hydration Summer Barbecue on July the twentieth.”

  “Who has?” said Cava-Sue, who was reading a play and eating toast made from that disgusting birdseed bread that she buys herself these days.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wood plus children,” said Mum.

  “What Draper barbecue?” I said, crossly. Carrie ALWAYS forgets to tell me stuff these days, she is so annoying. I bet Bezzie Kelleher knows.

  “Am I invited?” said Murphy, excavating his nose.

  “All the Wood children are invited,” said my mum, then she started to laugh. “’Ere Shiraz, aren’t Maria Draper’s bashes a bit snooty? All fancy cocktails and that Japanese raw fish stuff?”

  “A bit,” I said.

  “’Ere, well I’ll have to ring up Aunty Glo and see if she can cut your dad’s hair before we go. I’m not having him turning up looking like a badger.” Mum looked at the invite again. “’Ere, do you reckon they’ll have all the outdoor whirlpool jacuzzi things going, like on Footballers’ Wives? Shall I bring my bikini?”

  I put down the Coco-Chocko Clusters, ’cos suddenly they felt like stones in my mouth. NO WAY ARE MY PARENTS GOING IN THE JACUZZI. My mother’s boobs are all saggy like an African tribeswoman’s and my dad’s toes have a calcium deposit problem which makes his toenails grow like werewolves’.

  If Dad fronts up in those orange Speedos I SWEAR TO GOD, DIARY, I WILL KILL MYSELF.

  WEDNESDAY 2ND JULY

  Clinton Brunton-Fletcher has a new girlfriend. It is Latoya Bell from our school with the diamond face-stud and the Acceptable Behavior Contract. Latoya’s been quiet lately ever since Kezia kicked her ass, but she wasn’t tonight ’cos Clinton had bought an old Audi and they were driving around and around Goodmayes yelling out the window at people walking home from school. They called me “Moose,” and Carrie “Big tits.” Bezzie was fuming when Carrie rang him. Bezzie said he was going to go round and give Clinton a slap. Then Bezzie worked out who Clinton was and said that violence wasn’t the answer and he’d just diss him in the G-Mayes Detonators’ new track instead.

  THURSDAY 3RD JULY

  Cava-Sue is proper stressed right now ’cos her Theatre Studies A-Level group are putting on a play called Waiting For Godot by this bloke called Samuel Beckett and she has a lead role. I asked her what Waiting For Godot was about and she said, “Well, on one level, Shiz, it’s about two tramps waiting for their mate, Godot, to arrive, but on a deeper level it symbolizes lots of things like war and stilted ambition or the futility of modern existence.” Oh my days. It sounds more depressing than Christmas EastEnders. Why are all clever books miserable?

  I told Cava-Sue about the two A– marks I got for English recently. Cava-Sue was really chuffed for me. She grabbed me and kissed my face! Cava-Sue said I’ve always had a brilliant imagination. Cava-Sue said, “Hey Shiz, do you remember the time when you were three and you took the top off my Barbie dolls’ house and did a poo in the bathroom area then told everyone that the jolly green giant did it?!” WHY DOES EVERYONE IN THIS FAMILY HAVE TO REMEMBER EVERY BLOODY THING?

  SATURDAY 5TH JULY

  BIG NEWS. The G-Mayes Detonators have SPLIT UP due to musical differences!! Carrie says that Wesley completely refuses to add human beatbox on Bezzie’s track, “Girl, U Iz My Baby-Boo.” Carrie says that Bezzie is going to be a solo artist now and is working on a concept album devoted to songs mainly about his relationship with Carrie. Carrie says she’s sending me an MP3 over of one called “Clinton — Don’t Diss My Wifey” that is so sweet that it made her cry.

  It’s like talking to someone with brain damage.

  WEDNESDAY 9TH JULY

  Mum RSVPed the invite to Maria Draper, saying that we will all be attending the Draper Hydration Summer Barbecue. Mum seems quite excited by it. She can’t wait to get a good nose round Draperville. She’s not seen the hallway ceiling that Maria got painted like the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican, except all the angels have Maria’s and Barney’s and Carrie’s faces on them. Maria is right proud of it. Maria rang up Elle Decoration and Stylish Homes magazines and asked if they wanted to take photos of it but they both said it was “not really their type of thing.” I don’t know how they can say that. The drawing of Alexis the Chihuahua with wings playing a lute is really tasteful. If that’s not style, what is?

  FRIDAY 11TH JULY

  Nan rang tonight and asked Mum to get her a ticket for Cava-Sue’s play.

  “Ooh! Is Cava-Sue in a play?” Mum said loudly. “She never said!!” Cava-Sue looked up from her Waiting For Godot book and made a face like you would when your thong gets stuck up your bum-crack.

  “Ooh it’s ages since I’ve been to the theater!” Mum said. “’Ere, Brian, when was the last time I saw a show?”

  “We went to Goodmayes Social last year to see Jimmy Sparkle the Ventriloquist and his Cheeky Monkey, Rumpo,” Dad said.

  “Ooh yeah!” laughed Mum. “He was a right laugh! Will it be anything like that, Cava-Sue?”

  “Not really,” said Cava-Sue, then she made the thong/bum-crack face again.

  Mum is making Cava-Sue get three tickets for me, her and Gran. Cava-Sue looked very sad when I told her.

  WEDNESDAY 16TH JULY

  Tonight me, Mum and Nan went to Cava-Sue’s college to see Waiting For Godot. We nearly missed the start ’cos Mum was trying to set Sky+ for Dog Borstal and find her spare pack of Lucky Strikes. Then Nan turned up dead late too ’cos she’d been at her Wednesday club and the meat raffle was late. By the time we got to the college we were last. We sat near the back like Cava-Sue told us to. She said that was where we’d get the best view. The audience was full of dead studenty sorts wearing weird hats and leg warmers and pixie shoes. Whenever I see Cava-Sue’s mates these days they remind me of that game me and Carrie used to play at birthday parties in Year Seven where you put on tons of coats and hats and scarves and then spin round proper quick and have to eat a Mars Bar with a
knife and fork. Their clothes never match and they always look a bit confused.

  Eventually the lights went off and the curtain went up. Our Cava-Sue was standing on stage with another girl, both dressed as a tramps with mud smears on their faces! Me and Mum laughed out proper loud and cheered, but no one else did. Cava-Sue paced about a bit, then her and the other girl began talking and shouting words. I listened as hard as I could but I couldn’t understand.

  “’Ere, Shiraz! What’s she saying?” Mum said, nudging me. Nan started fiddling with her hearing aid. It began to squeak.

  “Is it English?” Nan said. “Is that our Cava-Sue?”

  “Shhhhh!” said a woman in front, wearing thick-rimmed glasses.

  “Shhhh yersel’!” said Mum. The woman tutted. “’Ere at least Cava-Sue’s smartened herself up a bit!” Mum whispered at top volume.

  The next half hour seemed to last FOREVER. I thought the play might get better when more actors joined in, but there WAS NO OTHER ACTORS aside from a weird-looking bloke who ran on now and then talking even more gibberish. Dunno whether he was even in the play or he just had learning difficulties and was lost. Then Mum’s cell phone rang, which was totally embarrassing, ’cos her ringtone is still “In Da Club” by 50 Cent which me and Murphy put on her cell three years ago for a joke. Everyone looked around and stared.

  “Helloooo? Glo?” my mum said. “All right darling? I can’t talk. I’m in the theater. IN THE THEATER! Our Cava-Sue’s in a play. Yeah. YEAH! I know! Nah, not really. Nah, it’s not up to much. I ain’t got a clue what’s happening. It’s in Cantonese I reckon!”

  By this point people were beginning to tell Mum to shut up. Even Cava-Sue was getting distracted.

  “So you got time to cut my Brian’s hair or not then?” my mum said.

  “Excuse me!” shouted the woman with the glasses. “There is a no-cell-phone rule during performances!”

  “Oh Glo, I’ll ring ya back. Some woman ’ere is taking the right hump,” sighed my mum.