Graham

Keaunu "the Chav" Smith pulls up in his modded Fiesta with the extra lights, spoilers and England flags attached, the bass bins in the back blasting out 120 decibels of Beastie Boys.

He flicks his fag out of the window, the sunlight glinting off his gold sovereign ring and starts to speak, then realises that nobody can hear him over the racket from his stereo.

Reluctantly he turns it off (or, at least, down) and gets out, his white trainers and baseball cap setting off his Hillfiger t-shirt and trousers and the heavy gold neck chain and ID bracelet (with his name on as a reminder) says...

"Urr, well, yeah, like I had an effing normal childhood didn't I? I bunked off the effing local comp like everyone else, learned to smoke at effing seven, nicked a bunch of effing stereos an' got some effing community service order from some muppet magistrate.

"Then I got on the dole and did some effing work cash in hand for a mate and spent it on effing Special Brew then I come home and watch effing Sky Sports all effing evening.

"An' what's this effing crap about not having an effing TV show? Haven't you ever effing watched effing Trisha?

"That's normal, innit?!"