It is with great sadness that I announce the death of British society as I know it. As a nation we’ve had our ups and downs. Good times and bad times. Happy times and sad times. But whatever the issue, whatever the occasion, however bad the situation, we could be always be depended on to do one thing right. We could always be relied upon to be able to form a queue. An orderly, organised queue. No need for barriers, cordons or supervision. We could create queues spontaneously. And we’d wait our turn.
Not necessarily patiently, and most definitely not without a degree of grumbling. But wait our turn we would. The world could be falling to pieces. The skies might open to reveal the White Horse of Armageddon on his way to smite us all. And we Brits would instantly form a queue, ready to stroll into Hades like polite little lemmings with crooked teeth. I would argue that in the 21st century, when the nation has battled to try and define what constitutes ‘Britishness’, the answer lay simply in our ability to queue.
But alas. This last bastion of Britishness is no more. The last identifiable characteristic of my breed has been lost. At bus stops, in car parks, on the Tube and elsewhere, our orderly queues have disappeared, replaced with a mob rush that I once associated only with the developing world, where crowds surge to grab the last bit of squatting space on the roof of a train.
What happened? What went wrong? It’s be easy to blame the foreign immigrants. They do seem to have joined in the free for all melee. But it’s not simply down to them. How about the nation’s youth? They also join in the crush. But it’s not entirely down to them. No, the blame, if you ask me (and you didn’t, but it’s my blog, so…) lies fair and squarely with the Chav. Foul mouthed, ignorant, poorly educated, completely lacking in class, soaking up benefits and with the manners of a flatulent baboon.
Desperate times call for drastic measures. The Saudis might be misguided with their religious police, but they are on the right track. We need Chav Police. Coppers patrolling the streets, seeking out chavs and administering whippings as required. Chavs who look likely to breed in the near future might be taken somewhere quiet and discreetly dispatched.
Perhaps I sound a little more Hitleresque tonight than usual. That’ll be down to the one hour bus journey home that turned into a four hour chav inspired marathon. Delayed by Chavs who can’t queue. Who refused to queue. And threatened an elderly man when he objected. I’d have liked to have been a Hitler tonight, just for a couple of hours. The old man would happily have been my Hess, I suspect. And whilst I might be a little OTT, this Chav section of our society are real, they are running unchecked and they are having a detrimental effect on the country. Destroying the art of queuing is simply the last straw.