The Decline of Western Civilisation

Saliva Birds

by Enormous on September 23, 2007

I do not like to hear teenage girls swearing or to see them scratching themselves in unsavoury places (You mean like outside the glue factory?Crap Jokes Ed.), but what I find most disturbing is the occurrence of young females spitting in the street. And even then, if it was just one or two of them, I would not feel so disgusted. But when a whole group of about ten or twelve of them are at it, freely ejecting rich spittle and sticky, bronchial mucus on to the busy thoroughfare, I am outraged.

We had an unfortunate encounter with such a gathering yesterday whilst out enjoying our evening promenade. One generous dollop of the sickening liquid nearly landed on Audrey’s tail.

I could not help myself. ‘Excuse me,’ I said to the cross-eyed offender from whose mouth the saliva had been ejaculated, ‘But are you a moron?’

‘You what?’ she asked, laconically.

‘I do not mean to cause you any offence,’ I went on, ‘But it is of course to be taken for granted that your cerebral acuities are severely limited. I was just wondering if in fact you have an actual medical condition such as idiotism, Tourette’s or Down’s Syndrome perhaps, which would account for your egregious behaviour.’

‘F**k off, weirdo,’ she whispered. Which I did.

I could hear them calling me every name under the sun as we went down the hill and turned the corner. ‘Tell me, Audrey,’ I asked my little dog, ‘Why, oh why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?’

On the Fantastic hi-fi today:
Can’t Slow Down – Lionel Richie

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Love of the Common People

by Enormous on September 18, 2007

I beg your indulgence while I vent my spleen. I have mentioned before that rudeness is my bête noire, and I have just encountered an inbred idiot of a man who probably invented it.

There are many people around here who are ignorant, ill-mannered and demonstrably backward, but this person was so rude and objectionable that he should have been fenced off.

‘Excuse me,’ I asked politely. He was blocking my path on the thoroughfare. (He was so ugly; it looked as if a slimy bag of lively frogs was balanced on his shoulders where his head should have been.) He did not move or acknowledge me. ‘Pardon me, my good fellow,’ I continued, ‘But may I pass with my dog?’

‘We don’t want people like thee ‘round ‘ere. Piss off back where you come from,’ was his helpful suggestion.

We had to step momentarily into the busy traffic to get by, and when I made it obvious to him how unreasonable I thought he was being, he spat on to the pavement at my feet.

‘This place ain’t for you – or your dog, mate. You don’t belong here,’ he hissed.

I would have been angry if I wasn’t so shocked. Although I try not to stand out and to remain as inconspicuous as possible around the village, this kind of thing is happening more and more. I am convinced that not everyone is of the same objectionable character as this particular individual, but I am so glad that we are moving soon.

I think in many ways, the man’s observations were fairly accurate, but why people should display such hateful intolerance is quite beyond me. Perhaps they are related to the various shopkeepers and landlords that I have managed to offend recently – it is something for which I seem to have a remarkable and ever-evolving gift.

Maybe it is related to the fact that the studio is frequented by a parade of colourful musicians, singers and artists. I wonder what the man’s reaction would have been had I been black or Jewish, or even worse, gay. Or all three – imagine that! He would probably have been quite unable to have contained himself at such a prospect and would have collapsed or had a fit, or would simply have disappeared into another dimension with a pathetic and barely-audible little pop.

And I shall have to remember to warn Nelson to dress down when he comes to visit in a few weeks. He is going to get me beaten up again if we are not careful.

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Sombrero Fallout

by Enormous on September 13, 2007

I think it must be dressing-up day at the local infants school because Audrey and I passed scores of children this morning who were filing into the playground carrying bundles of colourful shirts, hats, spangled sandals and boots.

Our attention was drawn in particular to a pair of 5 or 6 year-old girls who were involved in a vehement argument at the school gates. They were fighting, like some kind of junior female madmen, over the apparent ownership of a gigantic, comedy sombrero hat. It was a very poignant scene and had drawn quite a crowd.

‘It’s mine!’ screamed one of the schoolgirls.

‘Get off. It’s mine!’ insisted the other.

And then, baring her pointy little teeth, one of them said this: ‘You f***ing bitch!’

Although this made the other girl immediately burst into tears, I have to say that it was an effective tactic to deploy, as it ensured that the little blond one who said it ended up marching off proudly into school with the oversized hat safely tucked under her little arm.

One of the chubby mums who had been watching the exchange glanced at me and said, ‘Well I never. What do they teach them in school these days?’

I do not think she learned such a thing in school. And neither does it surprise me, the kind of language one hears coming from the mouths of babes these days. It is just another symptom of the inevitable decline of western civilisation that one does not have to look very hard to find – even outside an English village school at 8:30am on a sunny Thursday morning in September.

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