Sunday, 30 November 2008

In case you were wondering...

... why I moan so much about Sevenoaks, here is a random sample of the local demographic:

Giles works for a private wealth management firm near St James' Square. He and Annabelle lived in a trendy flat in Pimlico before moving out to Sevenoaks in search of fresh air and prestigious school catchment areas. Although he paid off the mortgage on his Blackhall Lane mansion with last year's bonus, Giles suspects that this year Payroll will not be so generous. At worst, he may have to sell the au pair's Landrover. Giles is keen to fit in with the local community, and has been making advances on the constituency Conservative party.

Annabelle. After graduating from Durham and taking an obligatory year out to travel, Annabelle briefly worked as a temp receptionist for a wealth management company, where she met Giles. Since moving to Sevenoaks, Annabelle has relinquished her tiresome career with a sigh of relief: after all, who has time, what with gym, yoga and collecting the boys from rugby practice on the au pair's day off?

Hannah is relieved she managed to fit in her GCSE History coursework this evening when choir was cancelled due to an outbreak of flu. Tomorrow she has piano; Friday, singing lesson; Monday, music theory and Tuesday is an exhausting combination of ballet and tap dancing. Hannah's singing teacher says she has the voice of a young Maria Callas and ought to spend a year in Italy before applying to the Royal College of Music. Hannah has a pale, hunted look: she quite likes singing but is more worried that her fake ID won't get her into the Angel Centre Ball with her classmates on Saturday.

Lee has lived round Bat and Ball all his life, not like them posh twats up Gracious Lane. He's a delivery driver for his mate's dad's firm and can't wait for the weekend, when he's going to watch Arsenal vee AC Milan with his mates down the New Inn and then go up the Slug and get completely f*cked on seventeen pints of Fosters (f*cking Stella: too f*cking expensive). He reads the Star and wants to batter the f*cking paedos that killed baby P, although he's not above giving his own lad a good thrashing if he gives him any of his f*cking lip, cheeky little c*nt. He also can't stand those stuck-up birds you get round here: f*cking feminist lezzers.

You know what? There are tons of these. I may have to write a Part II...

Excuse the stars: I'm not normally such a prude, but I don't want my blog to get blacklisted.


peixote said...

What, pray, are 'lezzers'?

expateek said...

oooh, I can feel a novel coming on!!
keep going!

Anonymous said...

ha ha. It reminds me of the french movie "delicatessen".

Jake said...

'hunted' or 'haunted'? It makes a difference you know ;)

pinolona said...

Peixote: Them f*cking lezzers y'know wot I mean f*cking perverts - not that I'd mind a look mind, they just need a real man know wot I mean?
(clearly, to Lee, feminist and lesbian are synonymous. In fact, if Lee is the future of the male of the species, I'm joining the sisterhood.)

Expateek: oh there's plenty more where that came from!

Anon: reminds you of Delicatessen in what sense exactly? The proliferation of vegetarian frogmen and people selling their legs to the local butcher for credit? (things aren't that bad for Giles and Annabelle yet).

Jake: thank you, I am aware of the difference between the two, and I do indeed mean 'hunted'. As in hunted down, chased into the practice room, pursued by well-meaning pushy parents (see Part II...) every day except Sunday. Oh wait... on Sunday, Hannah has church choir... and homework.