I’ve just been shrieked at by a female member of the underclass. I was paying for a birthday card at the counter of our local W.H. Smith when I became aware of someone screaming at the entrance. It turned out to be a young, skinny girl, about 18, and from what I could make out she was upset that her brother, whom she had left alone inside the shop to buy something, “keeps gettin’ pushed aht the f*ckin’ woi.”
At that point I noticed, for the first time, a little boy, six or seven years old, standing about five yards from the queue in the retail equivalent of no-man’s-land. If any of us had noticed him, we would have assumed he was waiting patiently for a parent to finish buying something.
“I do apologise,” I said, “but I had absolutely no idea he was queuing. How was I meant to know?”
Bamboozled by these remarks, she yelled, “Just f*ckin’ let ‘im in!”, and disappeared.
When I left the place, there were three teenaged female chavs on the pavement, including the shrieker, all with pushchairs occupied, no doubt, by their own offspring (I seriously doubt if anyone would employ these young ladies as nannies).
Childishly muttering something I shouldn’t have, I wandered off, wondering why they had confused me with the author of the Critique of Pure Reason.
Now, living in London for the best part of 50 years, I’m used to encountering discourtesy and lunacy – and I dare say I haven’t always behaved like a priest myself – but the incident niggled away at me all the way home. Why would anyone behave in such a pointless, stupid fashion unless dunk or drugged (she may have been, but let’s give her the benefit of the doubt)?
Then it all fell in place – I had it!
I presume the shrieker is a teenage mother. She probably lives in a council house, and no doubt jumped the queue because she “fell” pregnant. The fact that she has behaved irresponsibly and selfishly no doubt means that, far from being punished, she will have been rewarded with extra benefits. As she most likely doesn’t work, and as her sperm donor will no doubt be long gone, she won’t be paying any tax. So we taxpayers will be funding every aspect of her existence from now until – well, probably forever.
This young woman lives a life based on the concept of “entitlement”. She can behave in any way she sees fit, safe in the knowledge that the rest of us will pick up the tab (maybe she should consider a career in banking). After all, she knows her rights.
So, while you and I might think we should accompany our six-year old sibling to the counter of a crowded shop to buy something, or stay with them long enough to teach them how to queue properly, this young lady doesn’t see why she should be denied the pleasure of chatting to her fecund pals (sproglodytes?) just to show her “bruvva” the right way to do things.
After all, she’s never done the right thing, and it ain’t done ‘er any ‘arm, right?
Broken Britain – you really don’t need to be Hercule Poirot to figure out how it got damaged.
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