Over the Christmas period this year I’ve observed a few demographic changes in Earlsdon, the “posh” part of Coventry where I’m used to doing my socialising. Clearly I’m not the only one. In fact this process has been under way for quite some time – it’s now almost two years since the infamous football riot which took place outside one of my regular drinking establishments. For the reality is that this particular watering hole, in which I incidentally spent yesterday evening, has now apparently become a haunt of the Cov City hooligan “firm”. This has presented me with a dilemma: though I’m usually terrified of physical violence, the fact that I can buy 2 pints of Guinness and still get change from a fiver is just too tempting. Ah, the lure of J.D. Wetherspoon’s.
This is not the only dilemma I’m faced with. Naturally I can’t help baulking at the nimbyism and brazen snobbery of Twat Watch with its attacks on Poundland (which can be very good value for money and a welcome antidote to Britain’s revolting obsession with brand names). In addition I can’t blame the lower orders for seeking more pleasant places to drink outside of staggeringly ugly, ultra-violent Coventry city centre. On the other hand I’m wary of any spurious Burchill/Bushell style championing of crass vulgarity as awwfentick working clarse expression – Asbo-collecting chavs are still people I wish to avoid, just as the Sun is still a loathsome pile of shit and sports clothes should never be worn outdoors except for the purposes of sport, and should never, under any circumstances, be worn in combination with jewellery.
And things have stepped up a gear since two years ago. Back then it was a bunch of 50 year-old men throwing bricks in the street outside the City Arms, on a Sunday evening a month or so ago it was a murder just over the road in tacky wank bar Millsy’s (which has since been renamed “Killsy’s” by the locals – don’t you love our earthy Cov humour?).
In the end though, whatcha wanna do? Build up a barbed wire fence to keep the proles out? The trendy-lefty latter day Fabians who gave birth to Twat Watch probably congratulate themselves for not having voted Tory, thus not having contributed to the formation of the semi-criminal underclass that’s now appearing on their doorstep, but they can’t wash their hands that easily. No doubt Žižek would have a few choice words to say about them. Let’s face it, we all have our share of the blame to bear. Happy New Year folks!
This is not the only dilemma I’m faced with. Naturally I can’t help baulking at the nimbyism and brazen snobbery of Twat Watch with its attacks on Poundland (which can be very good value for money and a welcome antidote to Britain’s revolting obsession with brand names). In addition I can’t blame the lower orders for seeking more pleasant places to drink outside of staggeringly ugly, ultra-violent Coventry city centre. On the other hand I’m wary of any spurious Burchill/Bushell style championing of crass vulgarity as awwfentick working clarse expression – Asbo-collecting chavs are still people I wish to avoid, just as the Sun is still a loathsome pile of shit and sports clothes should never be worn outdoors except for the purposes of sport, and should never, under any circumstances, be worn in combination with jewellery.
And things have stepped up a gear since two years ago. Back then it was a bunch of 50 year-old men throwing bricks in the street outside the City Arms, on a Sunday evening a month or so ago it was a murder just over the road in tacky wank bar Millsy’s (which has since been renamed “Killsy’s” by the locals – don’t you love our earthy Cov humour?).
In the end though, whatcha wanna do? Build up a barbed wire fence to keep the proles out? The trendy-lefty latter day Fabians who gave birth to Twat Watch probably congratulate themselves for not having voted Tory, thus not having contributed to the formation of the semi-criminal underclass that’s now appearing on their doorstep, but they can’t wash their hands that easily. No doubt Žižek would have a few choice words to say about them. Let’s face it, we all have our share of the blame to bear. Happy New Year folks!
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