I always thought it was children that ruined an occasion, whether it be a trip to the cinema, eating out or even a short car journey. But, no. It is in fact the parents. Whilst recently relaxing at the beach I was treated to the warm glow of the sun on my face, the waves lapping gently up to the rocks and the general sounds of merriment and fun being had by all.
But then a couple arrived with a child, maybe 6 years old and started to unpack next to me. I rolled over and concentrated as hard as I could on my book. Time passed, and aside from the odd tantrum concerning the denial of an ice-cream the child was perfectly well behaved. So much so that as a treat, he was allowed to go in the sea alone as long as 'your dad can see you at all times'.
I didn't even finish the page I was on before the kid came running up the beach, pointing to his mouth and asking politely for a drink of water. Clearly he'd just taken a massive gulp of the Atlantic. His mum passed him a bottle of water and he took a mouthful, swilled it around and trickled it out onto the sand. No big deal, or so I would have thought, but this caused the mum to go into meltdown.
She started screaming at this poor kid that 'spitting is the most disgusting habit in the world' and proceeded to blame this boy, her own son, for the lack of guests they have round for dinner. Now I'm guessing that is has less to do with the oral habits of her son and more to do with the fact that she is as highly strung as a tennis bat, and about as accommodating as a smack across the face from the aforementioned sports accessory.
Obviously, there is no correlation between affluence and parenting ability, but thanks to these middle-class, al dente pasta eating parents that feel compelled to give a running commentary of events as they unfold, to show the world how they are parenting with force yet compassion, I have a new found respect for children. Let's not get carried away, most of them are still little shits, but next time I see one acting up I'll shout at the parent before the child.
Saturday, 20 August 2011
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
You're Really Growing On Me - Like a Tumour
I'm in a bit of an existential quandary at the moment. My ability to judge the difference between the serious and the sarcastic is being questioned. It's like the question of The Darkness, the Lycra catsuit parading hair metal falsetto band from the early 'noughties'. Were they a joke, a parody of the self indulgent metal bands of the 80s, or were they serious? Did they think they were actual Rock Gods? I still don't know.
Fast forward a few years, and I again find myself struck with the same question. Are they serious? Unfortunately this time the question concerns people that are already in my life, people I have physical contact with on a daily basis.
Picture the scene if you will. Someone at work/Uni/college makes a slightly risque comment. You stop, think, look around the room gauging the reaction of others, still nothing. You say nothing, thinking it was a joke you just didn't get.
The next day the same person says something unthinkably offensive. Again you scan the room for clues as to whether this apparently rational and forward thinking person is joking, or is in fact actually a horrible and bigoted parasite.
Fast forward a few years, and I again find myself struck with the same question. Are they serious? Unfortunately this time the question concerns people that are already in my life, people I have physical contact with on a daily basis.
Picture the scene if you will. Someone at work/Uni/college makes a slightly risque comment. You stop, think, look around the room gauging the reaction of others, still nothing. You say nothing, thinking it was a joke you just didn't get.
The next day the same person says something unthinkably offensive. Again you scan the room for clues as to whether this apparently rational and forward thinking person is joking, or is in fact actually a horrible and bigoted parasite.
You continue to ponder. Surely this person is acting out a satirical persona, poking fun at racism, sexism and any other disciminatory behaviour? You feel confused and at odds with yourself and your judgement. Don't.
The moral of this story is trust your judgement. If someone feels quite comfortable revealing fascist sympathies in a public domain, or voicing opinions on women that would make Bernard Manning blush, it is safe to say that they are a hideous human being and should be avoided at all costs. Better still, we should ostracise them from society and force feed them chapatis with pictures of Prince Phillip's face on until they repent.
Monday, 10 January 2011
Ignorance is bliss? Not if you have to hear other people's it isn't
I can't reprimand people for not having a detailed knowledge of the same things that I do. If I were to be engaged in a conversation with a micro-biologist that loved to play the harp in their spare time, I probably wouldn't have much to bring to the party. But, what I wouldn't do is search my brain for anything I had previously read in a right-wing daily newspaper, and pass off their vitriolic rants as my own opinion to try to engage the aforementioned Biologist.
From time to time we have the misfortune to find ourselves in a confined space with just such a person. This is this person who is very opinionated and very vocal with those opinions, despite the fact they have absolutely no knowledge on the subject they seem to be so emotionally attached to. Every one else in the room will probably be cringing, or in a state of shock as this seemingly intelligent and forward thinking individual will spit out 'their' views on topics usually centred around immigration, gender politics, sexuality and a general longing for a return to a Colonial past.
As someone who finds the whole notion of drawing lines within society, categorising people through appearance or culture abhorrent, you may feel it your moral duty to engage such a person in an intellectual and thought provoking debate. Unfortunately, these people are so ignorant they are completely oblivious to any train of thought/beliefs other than their own.
So what can we do about this spread of the neocons, unwilling to listen to reason and logic?
I don't have the answer I'm afraid, but what we can't do is roll over and let them live their lives vociferously spouting xenophobic bile, without the consequence of at least being called to explain themselves. We have to challenge these people before we find our children being taught 'Mein Kampf', or we discover the liberal political party of our country has been engulfed by a Conservative lust for social inequality. Wait a minute....
From time to time we have the misfortune to find ourselves in a confined space with just such a person. This is this person who is very opinionated and very vocal with those opinions, despite the fact they have absolutely no knowledge on the subject they seem to be so emotionally attached to. Every one else in the room will probably be cringing, or in a state of shock as this seemingly intelligent and forward thinking individual will spit out 'their' views on topics usually centred around immigration, gender politics, sexuality and a general longing for a return to a Colonial past.
As someone who finds the whole notion of drawing lines within society, categorising people through appearance or culture abhorrent, you may feel it your moral duty to engage such a person in an intellectual and thought provoking debate. Unfortunately, these people are so ignorant they are completely oblivious to any train of thought/beliefs other than their own.
So what can we do about this spread of the neocons, unwilling to listen to reason and logic?
I don't have the answer I'm afraid, but what we can't do is roll over and let them live their lives vociferously spouting xenophobic bile, without the consequence of at least being called to explain themselves. We have to challenge these people before we find our children being taught 'Mein Kampf', or we discover the liberal political party of our country has been engulfed by a Conservative lust for social inequality. Wait a minute....
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
A few more things I discovered in 2010
After slightly more gin induced deliberation, here are a couple more things I discovered in 2010.
- First impressions are not always correct
I feel a qualifier in is order though; I'm talking about subtle tweaks not complete U-turns of opinion. [If on first contact I really don't like someone, I'm afraid there is no way back from that]. However, it in fact transpires that not all creative minds from London are in fact cocks/she cocks as first thought.
- In amongst the intolerable mountain of dross produced for TV, there are some diamonds in the rough
2010 was the year I was introduced to The Wire, a show that I had been aware of, but unforgivably had omitted from my viewing schedule. All that I can say is that if you haven't seen it - do. I would suggest that is is possibly the greatest TV show ever made. The settings, the characters and the narratives are intriguing, flawless and as completely engrossing and life changing as crack.
I can feel affection, it just takes the right TV show.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
What did I discover in 2010?
As the chapters of life are flicked through and consigned to the ever increasing pile of crap that has happened but isn't worth remembering, I sometimes like to take stock and find a couple of truths to sustain me through the tough times. As a result, here are a few things I have discovered in the past year.
- A University degree is not a measure of intelligence.
Having graduated from University myself this year it is quite clear that when someone tells you they have a degree it means they couldn't think of anything better to do - not that they are destined to advance the quality of life for the human race.
- Politicians can't always stick to their promises.
Just a minor thing really, but in 2010 my confidence of our politicians took a small hit. I mean, it's not like the decisions they make affect every area of our lives or anything. Just imagine, we could be living in times where politicians are elected based on the popularity of their television appearances.
Friday, 3 December 2010
Do The Police have a sense of humour?
What is twitter?
A social networking tool, a way to keep in contact with friends, the ability to stalk celebrities, free and easy self promotion?
No. Based on events of the past couple of weeks twitter is the quickest and easiest way to find yourself in a cell.
I thought there were enough reasons to avoid twitter already: my intense hatred of 'networking' of any description, my inability to use anything web based, not wanting to hear that someone I went to school with is standing at a bus stop in the snow and, guess what, it's f**king cold.
It transpires that the Thought Police have infiltrated this once innocent sphere of public inanity, determined to punish the publication of jokes with death. This got me thinking, how many 'taboo' words can you get in a tweet before you receive a knock at the door? I'm working on things along the line of 'hey everyone, me and cameron are going to shoot some pool - if anyone wants to see him bomb hard meet us at waterloo station'.
If this is my last post, it probably didn't go that well...
A social networking tool, a way to keep in contact with friends, the ability to stalk celebrities, free and easy self promotion?
No. Based on events of the past couple of weeks twitter is the quickest and easiest way to find yourself in a cell.
I thought there were enough reasons to avoid twitter already: my intense hatred of 'networking' of any description, my inability to use anything web based, not wanting to hear that someone I went to school with is standing at a bus stop in the snow and, guess what, it's f**king cold.
It transpires that the Thought Police have infiltrated this once innocent sphere of public inanity, determined to punish the publication of jokes with death. This got me thinking, how many 'taboo' words can you get in a tweet before you receive a knock at the door? I'm working on things along the line of 'hey everyone, me and cameron are going to shoot some pool - if anyone wants to see him bomb hard meet us at waterloo station'.
If this is my last post, it probably didn't go that well...
Monday, 18 October 2010
How to write about ‘The North’
When writing about The North you should aim to place it in opposition to everything that is southern (especially London), and therefore everything that is modern, contemporary, exciting and advanced. We all know that up there they still take candles to bed and use an outdoor lavatory.
If you are writing an article with photos or pictures, include those depicting fat elderly folk in tweed jackets, brown corduroy trousers and flat caps that wouldn’t be out of place in a Dickensian novel. Try to find one of them eating a pie whilst gambling on whippet racing and smoking a pipe outside of a working men’s club.
No one (in The South) really knows where The North is so don’t worry about specific details when describing it. A safe bet is to treat everything past Watford as The North in order to avoid inadvertently southernising some of the undesirables.
Refer to the people of The North as unhealthy and uncivilised Neanderthals who deep fry everything, cover it in gravy and wash it all down with a glass of coal juice. With your educated and worldly position as someone from The South you can offer them advice on how to improve their diet and health whilst also introducing them to exotic French or Italian cuisine (such as the infamous Garlic Bread!).
Fine examples of settings for your text are coal mines, factories, mills or other industrial scenes that were once thriving businesses and at the centre of the community. Because of the reticence of The Northerners to adapt and change during the demise of heavy industry (coupled with the fact that none of them are educated past the age of 14) these once mighty monuments to sweat and toil have fallen on hard times, and are now merely painful reminders of better, gainfully employed times.
Consequently, revel in the philanthropic nature of the learned South. Massive redevelopment funds that bring the grimy towns of The North into the modern world are gifts that Northerners cannot truly appreciate. Take Wigan Pier for example; immortalised by George Orwell in the social commentary on the inhumane living conditions of the working class – and some things never change. Recently receiving massive investment, the museums and other supporting ventures quickly closed because the locals couldn’t be bothered to go.
Still, as a product of an enlightened upbringing you can interact and converse with these ‘true, salt of the earth northerners’, as opposed to the south-sympathising, false northerners. These ones live in contemporary riverside apartments in the metropolitan centres of cities that are simply taking inspiration from actual trendy and vibrant places in The South.
“Blackpool is the Brighton of the North!” Pass this off as Northern humour, which is immature, unintelligent, and often based on racist word play or simple observation - add an example (Bernard Manning and Roy Chubby Brown are good ones).
Finally, never advise visiting The North on anything other than a ‘fact-finding’ mission, for the purpose of highlighting one’s own sophistication and growth as a person. Hailing from a civilised background one must keep at an objective distance as, the things witnessed there would make one question the whole notion of the evolution of the human genus.
If you are writing an article with photos or pictures, include those depicting fat elderly folk in tweed jackets, brown corduroy trousers and flat caps that wouldn’t be out of place in a Dickensian novel. Try to find one of them eating a pie whilst gambling on whippet racing and smoking a pipe outside of a working men’s club.
No one (in The South) really knows where The North is so don’t worry about specific details when describing it. A safe bet is to treat everything past Watford as The North in order to avoid inadvertently southernising some of the undesirables.
Refer to the people of The North as unhealthy and uncivilised Neanderthals who deep fry everything, cover it in gravy and wash it all down with a glass of coal juice. With your educated and worldly position as someone from The South you can offer them advice on how to improve their diet and health whilst also introducing them to exotic French or Italian cuisine (such as the infamous Garlic Bread!).
Fine examples of settings for your text are coal mines, factories, mills or other industrial scenes that were once thriving businesses and at the centre of the community. Because of the reticence of The Northerners to adapt and change during the demise of heavy industry (coupled with the fact that none of them are educated past the age of 14) these once mighty monuments to sweat and toil have fallen on hard times, and are now merely painful reminders of better, gainfully employed times.
Consequently, revel in the philanthropic nature of the learned South. Massive redevelopment funds that bring the grimy towns of The North into the modern world are gifts that Northerners cannot truly appreciate. Take Wigan Pier for example; immortalised by George Orwell in the social commentary on the inhumane living conditions of the working class – and some things never change. Recently receiving massive investment, the museums and other supporting ventures quickly closed because the locals couldn’t be bothered to go.
Still, as a product of an enlightened upbringing you can interact and converse with these ‘true, salt of the earth northerners’, as opposed to the south-sympathising, false northerners. These ones live in contemporary riverside apartments in the metropolitan centres of cities that are simply taking inspiration from actual trendy and vibrant places in The South.
“Blackpool is the Brighton of the North!” Pass this off as Northern humour, which is immature, unintelligent, and often based on racist word play or simple observation - add an example (Bernard Manning and Roy Chubby Brown are good ones).
Finally, never advise visiting The North on anything other than a ‘fact-finding’ mission, for the purpose of highlighting one’s own sophistication and growth as a person. Hailing from a civilised background one must keep at an objective distance as, the things witnessed there would make one question the whole notion of the evolution of the human genus.
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