Caviar and Crisp
Sandwiches
by Gwen Boswell
Just stop and
think about how much time in our lives we spend
endeavouring to please or impress people we
cannot stand, or don’t even know. That’s
ridiculous, I hear you say (I lie, I know) but
please, just bear with me.
How often have you
heard someone saying, "I had a nice drop of
red last night. "A nice drop of
red; have you spotted the hidden message?
Correct, the wine drinker is ensuring that
everyone that is bothering to listen (pretty
boring stuff, ah) knows he pays a decent
price for his red wine. Do any of us care, no, he
can drink kiwi wee-wee all night if he wants. But
ask yourself this, if you found a really cheap
bottle of red wine that you enjoyed, would you
mention in passing to your boss - I don't think
so. He may be a complete idiot (most bosses
are) but you would never admit to enjoying a wine
that everyone else thinks should be poured over
Mario’s portions down the local chippy. Why?
Now cars, let's
say that you have a car that you are very fond
of, and we will make it a small car, a
mini. We will also make it a putrid colour
too, a dirty mustard colour, but we shall do
the modern thing and try and disguise its
putridness by calling it something trendy, "Dijon
Blonde." Picture yourself now in
M&S and you bump into a girl who used to
go out with your best friend's uncle's brother's
nephew (in other words, a complete nonentity)
but, alas, as you rushed out to do your shopping,
you didn't really pay that much attention to
your personal grooming, but she - the
nonentity – did. She looks you up and
down and asks how you are, THEN she asks you if
you still have that ‘old itsy bitsy little
mini?’ (Well groomed and thin I will
allow, but she can’t be smart as well and as
it’s my imaginary nonentity I call the shots).
Do you say in a confident happy voice, "Oh
yes, I love that car." I don't think so.
You would more likely say, "Actually, I am
just in the process of changing it...” Why?
What is wrong with
us all!? It’s high time we restored our
dignity with regard to this unacceptable
situation. Please, take up the challenge and next
time you have a situation something similar to
you sitting having dinner with a bunch of either
really posh or dead important people; a group
like, blimey, I don’t know, like the Queen,
Jonny Wilkinson, and a couple of people that can
go through the door marked “Private” at
Harrods.’ and the starched waiter hands YOU
the wine list, don’t mumble in your worst
French, a bottle of Newit St George 1998. Just
look him straight in the eye and say, “Shit
mate, I wouldn’t have a clue, try her over
there and in the meantime, I’ll have a
Dandelion and Burdock.”
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