Hilton, possibly the only known site of middle-class *****. A small village in the countryside, which is the pinacle of ****-related evolution. The weatherspoons style pub with small but effective **** flash-mobile carpark and a small tescos with chippy adjacent is the spawning ground for a few **** converts.
The day is spent by sitting on a wall and spitting merrily skywards. These demichavs do not have the social standing of their lower class bretheren and can afford to spent their evenings congregating around the skate park and ‘dissing’ each other and snorting coke, pills or whatever Persil-based substances they can get their dove-smelling hands on. The worst ****-related experience you can have is being mugged by smack loving *******, who forget why they’re talking to you mid-theft.
Truly a heaven for developing social trends, you can easily ridicule these ***** to their faces, without needing the security of at least three mates. ****-esque trends include the mandatory bling, burberry and **** nova/golf.
The new estate being built, especially for *****, is a credit to the **** way of life seeping into new social constructs. In Hilton most ***** own a cat and probably cry when it gets mangled under our souped-up fiat punto competitions.
Dirty looks and cockney attitudes come as standard. However their hearts aren’t in it, as i am pretty sure i overheard one of these wannabies telling another ‘bling ****’ that he loved his mother. Middle-class-meets-**** is worthy of a visit from Sir David Attenborough himself.
