A break for the border

Hello little people. (and Gareth)
Sheffield can seem like it's own little country for those who spend to long in the same area. I travelled to Millhouses yesterday to see Ben and Liz and their new sprog, Sam (cute, sleepy- it's a BABY- I'll give a more detailed report when he can talk). I'm not saying that the Hillsborough is better than any number of other places in the town, but we do seem to breed a better class of chav. Millhouses, of course, is really rather posh, but the poorer folks seem to be encroaching all the time, and these chavs have more in common with the city-centre variety (the kind who would set fire to your dog, rape your car and wee in your ear without even offering the cheerful grin of camaraderie you get from the Hillsborough kind). I heard some of them discussing the impending general election on the bus.

Burburry Cap: Can I vote?
Peroxide ponytail: Yuh. Din't you vote last year?
Burberry Cap: No. I never got an invite.
Peroxide ponytail: That's awful. This'll be my first time. Is it free?
Mum: Yeah.
PP: Who should I vote for?
Mum. Labour.
BC: One of them's on about not making people pay tuition fees. Is that labour?
Mum: Yuh.
BC: That's who I'll vote for then.

I'm starting to worry.