Not in my day

Is it me or do kids “gotta no respect” (read it again, but now do the voice of Marlon Brando from the Godfather.)

Let me stop people there, I know your all probably aware, I’m not exactly all that senior in years, but I’m already finding myself passing comments to my friend and peers that contain the immortal lines of either “I would never have said … in my day” or “I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing that when I was younger.”

Am I growing up or are the general populous of youth growing down?

Like the roots of sycamore trees, the youth of today (a phrase I’m currently loathe to use) seem to be undermining the very fabric of everyone else’s lives. When I was younger, we had the Smiths, Radiohead and other expressive mediums that helped us sit and mull things over, whilst tentatively reflecting on the troubles that our lives seemed to constantly lob over arm straight at us.

It would appear that, the current trend is to congregate in a collective of four to eight, but if your particularly gifted and have a phone you can bolster your numbers to a pensioner threatening platoon of at least twenty-odd. To then hurl abuse and anything that comes to hand, at any and everyone who happens to be living a life anywhere near yours.

What has started this trickle of abuse towards youth?

A delightful young lady I had the pleasure of meeting last week… at work… as a Powiss officer… honest!

She was 13, had the attitude of a diva (can be optionally read as div-a or deeva), and had little or no respect for anyone. And (sorry to harp on) she possessed a skill that far too many of her friends probably do, not knowing when to stop talking and not knowing when to eat humble pie*.

My how I wanted to… teach her in the ways of etiquette and politeness.

Both Saucy and I left her home address saying exactly the same thing. “If I’d been like that to my Mam, I would have got a (delete where appropriate) clout/slap/belt/slipper/trained attack chinchilla round the back of the legs/head/coal shed.

It’s times like these I start thinking about re-forming my vigilante squadron “The Solo Attack Squad” (or S.A.S. for short). Unfortunately due to problems with funding, an over bearing Government that deemed our activities inappropriate and excessive, and another very similar military group becoming household a name due to ex-members writing novels, we had to fold.

I’ll never forget the guys I led in that group, our motto of “kill those that deserve it” wasn’t as catchy as who dares wins, but they both essentially had the same meaning. Ish.

I am done. My outburst is complete. I have found solace and soft toys. Milky has returned to his happy place. Karma has returned. Utopia has been achieved again… *U*K*N* L*T*L* S*I*S !!

* Humble Pie, anyone?

The topic of humble pie came up recently at work. Derv, before his departure, said he felt it would be a savoury main course, which was rather dry and crusty possibly with optional gravy.

I on the other hand always presumed it to be a warm pudding dish, in a white bowl with blue trim, almost molten lava temperature with thick custard that sticks to the roof of your mouth.

Any ideas? Send them in on a stamped addressed postcard to the usual address.