I'd been having a passable day, and getting some things done, and was beginning to wonder if I should have another cup of coffee; and then around 4 pm the cafe was semi-flooded by middle-class Asbos exhausted by shopping, I suppose, who sat down with their coffees and cakes and left their offspring to run round banging into people and screaming. It had been noisy before; one expects that. Now it was NOISY. The important people had arrived.
Those too young to run screamed from their people carriers
And all one heard in opposition was the occasional shsh uttered by the responsible adults, made with the same kind of automatism with which some cross themselves. The children take no notice of such rubbish; it is just a variation on being ignored in between sudden but short bouts of baby worship.
At some level they notice it; enough to be sure that in twenty or thirty years they'll be doing it to their own brats.
If you shout at them to shut up, as I did around 4:35, they turn languorously with the assurance of those who know themselves to be of the master race, regard the shouter with contempt and carry on with their conversation and their shsh – while their children learn that they can misbehave, probably unaware that they are the topic of antagonism
Over by the window there is a nicely turned out woman reading a book while a child with what appears to be a motor horn almost the size of itself fills the air with pointless noise to cope with its boredom
When next I hear of large number of women and children being murdered, I may think of today. It is not necessarily a moral outrage, not if it happens here.
Three brain cells and you're out.
Last night there was a supposedly funny programme on radio 4 – One Micky Flanagan, who is we are told a cockney comedian, chatted on about how he finds “a big newspaper” too much of a burden because it takes so long to read, how he found school a burden because he didn't need to learn most of what they tried to teach him and how he is now a plumber earning good money without having learned anything at school.
I suppose it is a variation to hear from a smug (self-defined) working class voice; but it is just a variation on arrogance. It is really the same stable as the middle class moron.
At one point he told us repeatedly that he finds galleries and museums boring and wants to know why in such places they don't tell him what he's supposed to get from it...
Where does the idiot get the idea that everything has to be laid on for him?
If the slob had listened at school he *might have an idea.
The implicit idea that he is somehow an alternative voice to the middle classes is ridiculous. He's about as alternative as cornflakes. He's behaving about as intelligently as the smug puddle of scum who are imposing the results of their lack of parental control upon us in this cafe...