You look down on me, then I'll look down on you
I hate snobbery.
I said before that I hate hypocrisy – well, snobbery is up there with it.
I was enjoying my freedom the other night and went for a pint [or five]. I met a bloke there as we stood outside in the rain having a smoke. It turned out he was from a village some distance from here.
“Yiz don’t know how lucky yiz are livin’ here” says he. “Our place is full of feckin’ snobs”
Apparently they built an estate outside his village and called it something snobby like “The Manor”. The houses were worth about two hundred thousand at the time, but the builder put them on the market for eight. The poor snobs fell for it. They snapped up the houses because they reckoned the riff-raff would be kept out by the prices.
They now think they own the village and look down on all the locals. And they all drive SUVs and park wherever they feel like. They are worthless to the village because they all shop “In Town” and socialise in the Golf Club.
At Halloween a few years ago they even gave their little brats special bracelets, so they could be identified if they went knocking on doors. If any local kid turned up without a bracelet, the Gardai were called. They were that bad.
To me, all people are equal in status. I might look up to someone I admire, like Stephen Hawking, but that’s it. The only people I look down on are those who think they are superior to me by right of birth or wealth. And of course Skangers. But then everyone looks down on them.
My new pal told me about a time he drove down to the village and parked. He was getting out of his car when a big SUV pulled up beside him.
“I was going to park there” said the SUV driver.
“I parked here first”
“But that is my place. I always park there”
“Wha?”
“That is my parking spot. I’m from The Manor, you know”
I laughed. “What did you say to that?” says I.
“I told him I was very sorry for his troubles” says my friend.
“And then I told him to f*ck off”
Nice blog by the way. I’ve only came across it since the latest blog awards frenzy.
Not sure I follow your logic above though. You feel it’s acceptable to look down on “skangers”, when you accuse snobs of looking down on you?
You also said that you hate hypocrisy.
You are right, of course. I don’t look down on them [I put that piece in as a joke]. I just wish they’d stop shouting and running their baby buggies into my legs.
Maybe if you kept your legs together it might help!
Not with that lot. I swear they aim for me. But not as much as they swear.
That thing about the Halloween bracelets isn’t REALLY true, is it?! It couldn’t be, surely? I want to retain some faith in humanity, here.
Absolutely true. I didn’t believe it either, but he insisted. He swore on his mother’s grave [I assume she was dead], when I said I didn’t believe him.
Pretty horrific stuff?!!
Grandad,
Have you heard about the snobby buzzard? He insisted on being called Mr. BuzzARD. He ordered a load of fertilizer for his farm from the rabbit. The rabbit came to deliver the stuff and rang the bell. He asked for Mr. Buzzard. The buzzard’s wife corrected him saying, ” Mr. BuzzARD is out in the yard.” The rabbit retorts,”Tell him Mr. RabBIT is here with the sh*t.”.
Not exactly Aesop but snobbery is exposed even in the animal world.
P.S. What is a “skanger”? That’s a new word to me.
LOL.
A ‘Skanger’ is a Dublin slang word defined as follows..
“The Skanger: these creatures numbers are growing at quite an alarming rate due to their frenetic breeding, they are most likely recognised by shabby Reebok and or Addidas gear or if their really moving up in the criminal world, Nike. They can also be recognised by their unusual birdlike walk which usually involves them moving their head back and forth much akin to a pigeon on speed.
Can be heard to say if in their immediate “pack” or “herd” of friends “waaaaats tha storeeeeeeeee” or if a passer by- “Give us your mobile or I’ll fuckin knife ya, ya fuckin mupa!”
mating call:”Here Get out yar dick will yas!!!”
They hand around in crowds. The girls usually have about five kids by the time they are twenty and the blokes spend their time running between the pub and the betting shop. They communicate by shouting at each other or talking on their mobile phones to their ‘mates’ [even if they are standing side by side].
The dreaded “do you know who I am” social class. Roll on the property crash, that will show them who they really are.
I hope the Halloween story is not true.
I have just been talking to Herself [we do talk sometimes], and she says she knows a woman in that village who’s children were turfed out of the estate because they didn’t have the bracelets.
So that confirms it.
I believe they are getting electronic gates installed now. I hope they get as many power cuts as we do.
🙂
Oh thank God! I thought you were about to say you didn’t look down on skangers!!
I hate those jeep driving people anyway. We have an estate being built near our local rugby club. Selling for €250,000 each – even though it’s Cavan for God’s sake – and get this, it’s called Lansdowne Manor. Lansdowne Road is 92 miles away.
Knobs. That’s all I can call them.
Good article. I’ve also noticed that many SUV drivers are very rude, bad road manners.
John,
I have already given vent to my feelings about SUVs!! Doubtless I will come back to the subject.
I hate them and all they stand for [With the exception of the tiny minority who have a genuine reason for having one].
Granda,
What you have in The Manor is new money. Old money wouldn’t contemplate an SUV. A UV maybe, but it would be a twenty year old Range Rover with an assortment of horse tack and empty animal feed bags in the back. Old money would have a fifteen year old Volvo held together by mud and there would be holes in the elbows of the old tweed jacket. Old money regards itself as just the caretaker of what it has, it would rather put on an extra sweater than sell a painting to pay for central heating. Old money is softly spoken, why would it need to be loud, it has nothing to prove. The Manor has money, what it doesn’t have is any class 😉
That is beautifully put Ian, and I couldn’t agree more.
I know two people. Both are multimillionaires.
One is ‘old money’ and is the quietest, must unassuming character you could meet. He is, in fact a billionaire. He’s a very nice man. He is generally somewhat ‘unkempt’ and generally wears a jumper full of holes. He is a very popular man.
The other is ‘new money’. He has his house in Spain and his other properties and drives his SUV. He is a very lonely man, because he cannot stop himself from reminding everyone how much he has.
How old does money have to be to become old?
a couple of generations at least 😉