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For those readers that don’t know what a Chav is, allow me to describe.

A Chav (sometimes acronymed as Counsel House And Violent), is a person of little brain. I referr you to my satyrical piece entitled How To Ruin A Good Night Out. A Chav will almost always be the root of any disturbance in the public, whether it be a Pub, a street corner, or even in non-public areas such as your own home.

For a more in-depth analysis of a Chav, please consult the Chav Wiki.

(This may get complicated, try to keep up.)

At the best of times, my family is pretty hard to keep track of. My mother has a hard time staying with one partner for a prolonged period of time (my opinion, but the truth). The most recent partner my mother is with has a daughter, roughly 19 - 22 years old. She has a boyfriend who is 19 who shall hereon in be referred to as Jim.

Jim is a boxer. He boxes for Wales. Jim is a classic example of a Chav. From the moment I saw him, I knew he was going to be some kind of trouble. My mother’s partner’s daughter (getting complicated already) and her boyfriend, Jim, were invited to a small get-together for a meal and some drinks at home.

Referring to the title, any equation with Chav in it will equate to Bad. It’s like multiplying by zero. A Chav can cause trouble regardless of their level of intoxication. The only problem is that the amount of trouble caused appears to double or even triple when you add drink into the equation.

I was sat in my room, enjoying an episode of Grownups on BBC’s website, when I heard shouts, screams and bangs from downstairs. This was just as the night was drawing to a close. all problems happen when people are about to leave, why? Because that’s the point at which they’re most intoxicated.

As I went down to see what the hell was going on, I was met with my mum, her partner, my brother, my brothers girlfriend, and Jim-The-Chav’s girlfriend trying to split up my other brother and Jim from beating the living crap out of each other.

After successfully breaking them up, and among the ensuing shouting and crying, i discerned the truth as to what had happened.

My mum’s partner had asked his daughter to leave because it was getting late and they had to go to work in the morning. Any normal person would have obliged and taken the suggestion to heart and left. But his daughter made a scene, she didn’t have money for a taxi or something - and then (from what I was able to gather) Jim, Mr. Ultimate-Boxer-Chav-Man, thought my brother was mocking him ( ? ) and flew at him, all fists blazing.
My brother’s girlfriend stepped in to stop Jim, and he punched her in the face, TWICE. Not once, by accident, as he was aiming for my brother, but twice as in “I’m a big hard man I beat up girlies”. Of course, my brother lost it and flew at him, because you just don’t hit girls, it’s not what you do, no matter what happens.

It was at this point that I had had enough and called the Police, who turned up in time to be able to intercept Jim as he was leaving. I’m not clear what they said to him, but it was probably something along the lines of “go home”.

So anyway, things had calmed down and the Police were clued in as to what had transpired. The only thing is that they wouldn’t take statements from the people involved because they were intoxicated. Fine. My brother offered to go down to the station tomorrow and give a statement. No chance. According to the Officer, the next available date that my brother would be able to make a statement would be next week.
Personally I think that’s a load of bull. The Officer most likely just didn’t want the paperwork.

I guess the only good thing the Welsh Police force are doing these days is employing extremely good looking female officers.