Thursday, 14 June 2007

Monday 11 June 2007

nightwinds and bold moths
carry in the sounds of taxi
doors; muffled laughter

My mate Glyn, on his way to the Walk For Life yesterday, overheard the following exchange between two young men in mirror sunglasses and skinny t-shirts, clutching matching packets of Marlboro lights.

Camp Belgian :
Oh, you know, dahling, I`m going to end this whole relationship thing. It`s been two weeks, you know!

Camp Englishman :
Two weeks?! You`ve lasted well!

Camp Belgian :
I know that we`re supposed to be nice to old people, but he`s forty-six for God`s sake! I mean, really, he lives in a council flat in (cue curl of lip, and look of arch horror) Peckham! What am I supposed to do with that?!

Camp Englishman :
You can only take charity so far, dear...

You can indeed. I feel disinclined to be charitable to people who display such attitudes. When did we get to a point in our society where the public consciousness seems to deem anyone over thirty as unworthy of any attention whatsoever?
I blame Margaret Thatcher for all of this. She has to have had a hand in it somewhere.

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