Monday, October 08, 2007
Secrets of the West London Screamers
I have just worked out what the rich of West London do with their children all week. Every evening after school, they take them to special screaming classes. Highly-paid specialists sharpen and intensify the screams until they reach just the pitch and timbre that will most distress all around them. Once a year there is a secret competition at which the children of bankers and antique dealers compete to produce the most annoying noise in the world. On Sundays, the rich get out their giant buggies and take their children to cafes and restaurants. There they watch proudly as their expensively-trained tots reduce all the other customers to nervous, anguished wrecks, driving them back to their homes, bought with sub-prime loans from the bankers with the screaming brats. How they must laugh.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
It's good to know that there are still antique dealers in London.
ReplyDelete...though I'm (mildly) surprised. they've all but disappeared in the Cotswolds - you might spot one or two hanging on in the fringes of Stow-on-the-Wold... I've never understood why people with money would want to fill their homes with secondhand furniture...
ReplyDeleteScreaming is the best therapy second only to a good laugh, I am told. You must try fighting back with manic guffaw.
Hilary Clinton has already tm'd the manic guffaw....
ReplyDeleteHilarious. You want to hear screamers, go to the zoo. I spent yesterday afternoon at the Phila. Zoo (seeing some delightful tiger cubs, hippos, etc.), but there were definitely a few children I would have liked to cage -- or toss to the tigers for a behavioral lesson!
ReplyDeleteSurely my own never screamed thus?
These are the children of those oafs that pissed you off in The Mirabelle. And when they're not in West London, they're in North Norfolk. Burnham Market, to be precise. What's that all about?
ReplyDeleteThey do seem to pursue me. Sophie. As do Peruvian pipers for some reason.
ReplyDeleteNo doubt it is your aura of Darth Vader-like evil which prompts houseplants to die & children to scream. This is (of course) a good thing but right now it looks like you're unwilling to accept your Dark Mantle as the Notting Hill Lord of the Sith, hence your confusion. i hope this doesn't sound patronising but you really need to accept the Dark Side of the Force and instead of thinking grumpily, "why don't those kids shut up?" revel in your Dark Majesty and laugh evilly, The Emperor-like.
ReplyDeleteOnce you accept your destiny, you will take delight in the havoc and panic you leave in your wake. When children scream you will feel a warm glow.
The Peruvian pipers pursued me for a couple of years until I surrendered and paid a piper for a CD. Haven't seen or heard one since.
ReplyDeletethere aren't any Peruvian Pipers. If you look closely you'll notice it's the same bloke everywhere you go.
ReplyDelete