Their musical tastes cover a much wider range of genres as opposed to that of the chav, who is only likely to listen to drum 'n' bass, and hip-hop. As Gribley's are a range of Grungers, Goths, and Skaters, in addition to the human specimens who may otherwise be 'undefinable'. This therefore means anything from jazz to funk to rock to grunge may be encompassed. In the south, only Emo's have survived this so called 'Gribley takeover'
The creation of the common Gribley, and elimination of other groups of this nature, shows an advancement in the density of our modern day chav. Unable to keep track of Grungers, Goths etc, the Chav resorts to what, in their mind, is a magnificent generalisation, and a superb putdown. In addition to this, it starts with a 'G', so no need to change their vocal chords!
As well as the musical taste, and the clothing style, another distinctive hallmark of the Gribley is the 'Gribley attitude'. Their are differentiations within this, but they are not of the type to pick fights, egg houses, or shoplift from Londis. No, they are far too lazy. Adopt a 'we don't give a fuck' attitude, and you are halfway there.
Emo, incidentally, is a different term from a gribley. Call a gribley an emo, and expect a verbal protest, even from the most pacifist Gribley.
Ever met a vegetarian Chav? No, that's because only Gribley's are vegetarians. Emo's like red meat, it represents blood, preferably their own.
The final, most recognisable feature of a Gribley is that a Chav will refer to him as a 'dirty fucking gribley'. They will then proceed to attack you and attempt to steal your 20gb Ipod, which you only got last week. If this happens to you then you are a true Gribley.
However, if you are a Gribley, you are not a Gribley. This is because Gribley's do not want to be labelled. They are their own person.
Gribley: *whimpers behind tree*
Chav (to gribley): Oy blut wat you chatting, I'll rag you up hard!
Gribley: Here, take my Ipod, but plkease don't knife me!
Chav: *stabs Gribley and takes Ipod looks at music* This is shit!
Gribley *dying on floor*
Invariably lives with parents. May find “Work” as a hopelessly inept “Sound Engineer” at a dismal live music venue where he can rave about his mates’ extreme Death Metal bands and pour miserable scorn over any he doesn’t know.
Only travels by public transport to annoy the maximum amount of people with his ipod.
Jim: "It was that useless little gribley they had doing the sound."
"Gribley": I'm not a gribley you poor pikie (and which point he/she starts to run)