My old man is forever telling me that the chief way in which I am perverse is in my reverence for the middle class and their values. This perversity is borne of having descended and ascended the socioeconomic ladder more times than I would care to count. But he is right: while I am by temperament somewhat of a radical, I see no sense in waging a war against la petite bourgeoisie.
It is in this somewhat playful spirit that I relate the following anecdote, which, although in and of itself may not be that interesting, was, as these things go, at least mildly entertaining.
It all happened at a party I was at the other week or month. I found myself assailed, in the corner of the room, by another young man eager to a) tell me who I was; and b) tell me that my whole way of living was wrong. When I deigned to disagree with him on this second point, he exclaimed, ‘That’s just bloody typical! Typical middle class scum, you are!’, at which point I had the baneful duty of pointing out to him that a member of the middle class is, by definition, not scum.
I think the point was somewhat lost on him, however.
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