Chav Wars
Last night (Thursday) was "Chav Wars" night. Thank Christ I’m moving out of this place this weekend. Picture the scene, I’m already half asleep and about midnight I get waking up by a heap load of trouble coming from downstairs. This didn’t sound like your average argument, this has already had turned in to people being thrown around and getting hurt. I throw on a pair of jeans, and T-shirt and walk down the stairs with apprehension trying to establish what is going on. "Thank God your up" says my house mate, "Rob won’t leave" Rob throws around a series of accusations one of which my house mate (18 year old girl) has punched him, which led to a bleeding nose. All this guy wants to do is talk to her to calm her down. Now bearing in mind you could smell the booze on this guy from about 4ft away and I couldn’t see any signs of blood around his nose leads me to belive that I’m not going to get back to my bed easily. I spend about 10- 15 minutes listening to the drivel and heartache of there relationship and what has gone on during the evening. This consists of moments punctuated with yours truly begging for calm. My aim at this point is to get the guy out of the house and myself back to bed. In fact I tried to point out that leaving the discussion where it was, and continuing it tomorrow while everybody had slept it off was the best course of action. Let me just note that I’ve been working all week pulling evenings to get a personal job done. This was the first day of the week that I was able to get to bed pre 23:00. Despite my best efforts of placating the situation, from nowhere this guy swings at Charlotte. Now I do not consider myself a fighter by any means. I always joke that at least once a year I get a kicking just to put myself in to place. However throwing an arm at a woman is just not right. Of course I jumped in and stopped the guy. It was with luck that his aim was crippled by the booze and that I prevented him from actually connecting with Charlotte. The next ten minutes consisted of him and I practising various grapple holds and throwing yourself around. It finished with both him and myself a good three foot apart on our front lawn. Him shouting his head off making more and more outlandish claims, and me on the phone to the police. This was the first time ever that I called the Police, and it was with some guilt at "Grassing" on a person. What else could I do though? I don’t have the strength to be able to persuade a person who is hell bent on trying to get back in the house to return home. The next 5 minutes was really odd, I’m on the phone to the 999 operator trying to describe the situation, meanwhile palming off "IC1 male" from approaching the house. Hats off to the operator on the switchboard, although I had met this guy once or twice before I couldn’t remember his name. So it was with great relief that Mr.999 guessed who he was. Since the Police have better things to do that deal with a domestic, they couldn’t turn up in time. Shortly afterwards "IC1 male’s", father drove up to the house and was able to take him in to his care. This consisted of him asking me "who the F**K r u" and that I should "Mind my F**King business", I explained how much I would love to and that if he could take "IC1 male" away with him then I would be happy to never see the pair of them again. Sweet Jesus - I’m half way through writing this and I have just heard "IC1 Male’s" voice downstairs!! Just for future reference my police comedy number is P257 0344. Back to the nights events. "IC1 Male" has been taken away by his appointed guardian, and now comes the hard part. I spend the next 3/4 hr talking down my poor house mate. I can also feel a couple of bumps coming out from me and "IC1 males" bit of romance around the hall and front garden. Half an hour later, when I’m sure that he’s not going to re-appear I call the local station and ask them not to bother turning up. It sounded quite relived as they had at least half a KFC to go and they did appreciate not having to rush it. So this weekend I am leaving the Massive. I honestly can’t wait to see the back of this place. It doesn’t if I realise the negative points of N.London - they can’t be as bad as what I have been though in this house.
I need a ciggy before bed, and that means downstairs. It still sounds like "IC1 Male" is downstairs, why Charlotte is listening to appologies from a person who threw a punch at her I don’t know? I’d rather not have to see him, but I need that ciggereette! So hear goes, I must remember that I did break one of his fingers while we were having our fun!
Last point on this post, I had my smoke, and it was’nt the same guy downstairs. It was another friend of hers. It turns out that she has spent the evening in the Local Conservative club!