Starbucks and Waterstones

Beautiful people with such innocent dreams. Pure of heart and track records as white as the Alps they so frequently frequent. Imagine actually being good at snowboarding? That is a ridiculous concept - isn’t it? They are all younger than me now. I hear them every night. In their heels and tacked back hair. Staggering through the temporary streets, past the professional drunks and the homeless. Back to their Beatles wallpapers and brightly coloured socks. In fact I think there are so many of us now that I think it will be very hard to break us. No amount of religious hatred will shake these glossy and international foundations lose.

This is not a coherent blog entry. I’m just rehashing old ideas because they are still prevalent. I’m not sure what’s going on here these days. Oh, it’s certainly on the up. In fact it is as best as it has even been. So much so that I don’t even have to rationalise it. It’s just an accepted fact.

Spend five minutes on Myspace. Ask yourself just how rich are we? Hard to believe isn’t it. Millions of us. All wanting to save the world. A million poets and authors. A million politicians. A million aid workers. A million of the most educated and enlightened individuals mankind has ever produced. We are the third generation of uninterrupted growth. Spain for the summer? How bad things must have been back then.

Millions of us have made it to this middle class utopia. Yet millions more of our white comrades have not and will not. And as our economy begs for the borders to be opened up millions of hard working and thrifty immigrants arrive to do the job those down right rotten white underclasses refuse to do. The children of these welcome newcomers will join ours. We will move on, leaving the estates behind. The estates will breed hatred against the new colours. Yet we will stand fast with our new brethren and protect our three holidays a year lifestyle. Until the ice melts and washes the problem makers away. It’s already happened once. Our middle class God purges the inner city of its filth. We’ll just take up sailing.

A million Charles Booth’s will rise. We will sympathetically vote liberal while directing our sat-navs around the Westside of town.

City breaks and recycle boxes.
Starbucks and Waterstones.
Heathrow and Newark.
The Independent and skiing holidays.
The FT and the Observer.
Castles of enlightenment.
Padlocks against crime.

We do not listen to rap music. We are the elite.

And this is our world.