You know what it’s like, it’s a beautiful day, you’ve just finished sanding down a neighbour’s badger, and then you see an article in the paper, the contents of which horrifies you to the core.  The paper?  The Daily Mail.  The subject – a middle class bint who can’t afford Christmas for the first time in her life…

It’s a typical story from this,’Oooh, we don’t want to upset anybody, we’re British after all’ tabloid, and well in keeping with audience.  Yes, they may be death and destruction, violence and war-torn countries around the world, but the headlines in the Mail will read, ‘Hoorah – another Royal wedding’ or ‘Snail attacks pensioner’ or more realistically, ‘Fake green wellingtons shocker’!   

Yes people, this is the tragic story of having, as I see it, a vast and regular income and the ‘trappings’ (More than just a poignant word) that comes with the lifestyle.

Doris A (Her name has been change to protect her from the ignominy of making a complete twat of herself) borrowed and borrowed from the bank, and then found that the recession had taken hold, of what she must have believed to be, the untouchable middle class sector.  How did she do it?  Rather like this…

Bored one day and itching to add something else to her ‘I WANT, I WANT LIST’, Doris started a business with her partner.  Fair enough.  Then they bought a country house, even though they both had properties in London.  (O…kay).  Tired of the hustle and bustle of the city, they moved to the Cotswold and rebuilt their new acquisition.  [Oh I see, spending money is a bit of a hobby then.]  And if that wasn’t enough, the soppy bitch decided to purchase another house while they were down there, as an ‘investment’.  My, my, we were born with a silver ladle in our mouth weren’t we!

Now, how much money do you need to own four houses and start up a business, while using Harrods as your corner shop?  Baring in mind that, they probably had two cars, at least one 4 by 4, a pony for their daughter Jocasta and a quad bike for little Maximus J Pilchard the III.  Let’s say… an even 4 million for argument’s sake.

Then, oh dear, oh dear, the recession hit (caused by the very people that lent them the money in the first place), and shortly after that, the housing market slumped to an all time low.  And what did the caring sharing, ever giving bankers say?  That’s right, “Oi, oi, we want our money back right now!”  And it was this very situation that dropped Doris A and Dave B  in it right up to their guilt-edged bonds. 

Now, of course, things are more than a little difficult for Doris A.  [Excuse me, I’m just opening another box of tissues, sniff, sniff.]  And she and her partner are learning, for the first time, how to pull the horns in.  “We’ve had to completely rearrange our lives,” she said walking into Pound-land.  Yeah, you and half the country luv!  “These days”, she went on, “I’m lucky if I make £500 pound a week as a writer.”  Awwwww!  I’d kill to have that coming in a week.  Call me old fashioned, but I can’t help feel that it sounds like a case of too much credit and not enough hard cash madam.

Please note: I shall be passing a hat round so you can donate to the ‘Save the middle classes from themselves’ fund.  Please, please give generously, as they simply can’t face their friends, family or neighbours or book that third holiday.  

So it came to pass that, after everything she had been through, mostly spending other people’s money on a succession of ‘wants’, she finally realised that: “Yes, Christmas is heaven for the rich, [Well done dear.] but increasingly hellish for the less well-off.”  [Couldn’t ya just slap it!!]

And what did she want now, more than anything in the world?  A perfect Christmas.  No!  What she really wanted was a Christmas like all the other ones she’d had, the ones that had been delivered to her front door by Fortum & Mason.  I have no concept of what that feels like, other than it must be like handing out wads of cash to get other people to run around for you.

That’s not Christmas, that’s just a day to say,”Look how much we’ve spent this year,” to the people that they think are there friends.  I can only assume that the bubble they live in hasn’t got windows.  Well, after all, if you can’t see a problem, it doesn’t exist does it!  Think I’ll pop round to their house/s an’  give ’em a Spursland slap – bloody idiots!

News Flash… 4:241am GMT.

Uganda hit by Raging Banana wilt!             

This entry was posted on Monday, March 28th, 2011 at 4:24 am and is filed under Neils Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.