If Croydon is the spiritual home of the ***** then, for many, Wimbledon is their playground.
“Merton’s Mecca” is only a convenient chavtram ride away and offers much for the sovereign ring lovers.
Equidistant to the obligatory McDonalds and Argos are the steps outside the train station. Here RSPB (Royal Society for the Persecution of Burberry) members may be lucky enough to see a lesser-spotted Lonsdale amongst a flock of Kappaslappas. The higher up the steps, the higher up the pecking (or rather *****) order.
Better still is the nightclub “footlights”, only a 20 yard saunter away – perhaps the nations only nightclub built on top of a national rail station.
Flocks of wimblechavs luxuriate on a diet of cheap cigarettes and invective, appearing to get what little nutrients needed to survive from eye-balling any non-scruvy sufferers with fruit and veg from the nearby M&S (a definite no-go area).
All in all, not a dangerous sub-species, but one worth culling nevertheless.
