The Middle Class Right Royally Piss Me Off

…And it is About Time I Admitted It

The author as a child. NOT middle class. Very, very working class. Mould on the single-glazed windows not shown. Incapable parents not shown. Depressing house not shown. Absolute fucking misery for much of my formative years not shown. Author’s own photo.

Always right, always there with their bureaucracy, always prepared to defend themselves against common sense and the idea that things could be better in our world. This, folks, is why we are doomed. And, believe me, we are. We’re the last generation. Look around you. This world, it’s fucking done, isn’t it?

I am not middle class.

I would never want to be middle class.

I utterly fucking despise the middle fucking class.

I am a resolutely working class, first of his family to get into university, fucking pleb who the middle classes, if they could ever hear past my BBC vowels, would dismiss in a moment.

It is why I am so chippy with them, frankly.

Because I wore the suit and the tie, and I spoke with the cut glass accent (much as I hated the sound of Southampton in everything I say), and I was prepared to prostitute myself and my class to their every whim.

I taught in a middle class school.