Skip to main content

'What you like' - a Guardian column for twats

This column has been superseded by the 'Weekender' column/feature. In effect the same pretentious twattery exhibited by the Shoreditch set for your delectation and delight. In other words another puke inducing accumulation of smug pretensions by the moneyed privileged idiots that often read The Guardian.
This week it is a Fashion Journo with silly glasses who lives in a maple forest in Canada. She makes pizza for the children, looks at the lake, watches bald Eagles and enjoys a Martini and knitting.
How local to the UK. How relevant to their readership.
Anyway here is the original piece:

Have any of you read the 'What you like' column in The Guardian?
If you have, you know it's just the middle classes being pretentious twats about things they have bought or services they use. If you haven't read it then it is essentially middle class twats foisting their John Lewis world and mentality upon a readership of cosy middle classes. 
I loathe it. I am amongst the disaffected, that have now been abandoned by the Guardian, we don't have a 0% tracker mortgage and a Volvo you see. That and there is no John Lewis in Cumbria.
One entry to the column a few months back read 'We are a garlic family...' as its introduction. We are a fucking garlic family? What in fuck's name does that mean? A sodding garlic family? It went on to describe how 'one' can buy all sorts of garlic online from black to softneck and back to crow garlic. Oh yes. Different types of garlic, not just Allium Sativum but every one known to the poncey Guardian reader out to impress their twatty, middle class, garlic munching idiots of friends and diners and readers.
"Giles, one can get garlic online now...."
"Oh, darling can one? I usually get ours in Dalston Market..."
Which leads us to.....
It is especially good when the 'Dalston, Stoke Newington and Hackney set' get their little 'likes' in, it's usually organic veg from a nice little Nigerian chap on Dalston Market who can get you any type of African veg known to man via his website. 
Or their other Hackney/StokeNewington/Dalstonite/Shoreditch favourite is clothing where 'one can buy super Reiss and KurtGeiger clothing online' All for only £300 a throw for a fucking shirt...
Let's have a look at this week's twatty delights :
'If you are looking for an end of year present for your child's teacher try scrpitum.co.uk, pens cards, flick knives and batons can all be purchased there for under a £100...'
Well okay, the last bit about knives and batons were mine. But it is the poncey nature of the column that irks me. It is so smug and self absorbed 'Look at me, I shop and use the internet..'
What about this one then?
'On tunein.com you can listen to radio from around the globe...' fair enough but then the coup de grace, '.....My favourites are Japanese nature and Russian easy listening...' 
Oh do fuck right off. Just fuck right off.
Russian easy listening?
'Dimitri Smirnoff will now play Elton John live in Red Square....Beatles Band baby!'
Japanese nature? How poncey and pretentious is that? 
'Watch out for irradiated Red Squirrels....照射された赤リスに気をつけろ......'
The common ones that appear week after week start;
'The children adore.....' the twats then describe what their darling little offspring 'Love', it usually involves a pony or a Wendy house that can be bought for 'next to nothing' and then the website is writ large.
I have sent some spoof ones into The Guardian, just because it pisses me off so much; the twats. I like that word, you might have noticed.
Here's one;
"The children adore playing 'Guess the delivery van' ....I try to keep them amused every week, one time it might be John Lewis, then suddenly Harrods. One can purchase most goods and food online nowadays using orderlikeatwat.com They are marvellous! And free delivery!" orderlikeatwat.com
It wasn't published.
" The children adore playing guess the creditor......!" is the closest a vast amount of people in the UK will get to the smarmy, twatting, middle class puke inducing fest that is The Guardian's 'What you like' column.
Oh and I do read the Guardian.


Comments

  1. Anonymous26 June 2012 at 09:52

    First issue of The Davian hot off the press!

    Next edition will hopefully take a council strimmer to the eccentrically moustached hipster twats.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Protein Man of Oxford Street- Stanley Owen Green.

I wrote this Obituary piece for The Guardian about Stanley Green while I was an undergraduate at Goldsmiths' College.  I contacted The Guardian and asked them if I could submit it for publication. It was sent off to them and I waited in eager anticipation for their reply. It was published on Wednesday January 26th 1994,   the Editor  made no changes or additions except by adding some photographs (the photographs used here are later additions by me): "A Consuming Passion.... Stanley Owen Green who has died aged aged 78, was that tall thin man with steel-rimmed glasses who marched it seemed for an eternity up and down London's Oxford Street. It was his banner that made him famous, held high above his head and proclaiming "LESS LUST FROM PROTEIN" in large white letters. Underneath the banner he endured the taunts of sticky schoolchildren and the spittle of office workers alike, to bring his unique, indeed puzzling message to the people of London. He later wate...
3 comments
Read more

The Roswell Returns

“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” As those words echoed around Mission Control in Houston a round of spontaneous applause broke out across the site and in the control room. There were yelps and hollers of triumph echoing around the whole of NASA that momentous day in July 1969. In the Command Module Michael Collins was monitoring the vital controls that kept it orbiting the Moon. He flipped the carbon dioxide uptake switch, looked at the battery charge meters, oxygen levels and closely watched the radar screen. He sat back in his flight chair and watched the instrumentation flick and whirr. He daren’t relax, he didn’t relax at all. He paid great attention to the radar screen as he was commanded to. He had to monitor it for spooks, intruders or ghosts. He knew he was looking for Foo Fighters. They did show up on radar, aircrews had confirmed that as fact. It was how fast they appeared and disappeared that threw most pilots. There had been warnings by the ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Matunga

It was 13:37 as Colonel Pervez drew up outside the main Matunga railway station. He steeled himself to run the gauntlet of journalists and curious onlookers that had gathered outside the station. As his staff car slowed he waved his hand at the armed Police guard that were stood outside the entrance to the station concourse. He commandingly gesticulated for them to come forward and protect him from the throng of people. They all moved as one brandished their bayonetted rifles, pushing aggressively against anyone who pushed back. A police sergeant quickly, smartly, stepped forward and opened the Colonel’s car door, as he did so he stood bolt upright and saluted the senior officer. Colonel Pervez manfully strode into the train station not quite prepared for what was to confront him that day. There was a river of abandoned luggage trolleys filling the station concourse, like an awkward log jam of mangled metal. They sat there holding hands like so many small scrap trains being marshalled...
Post a Comment
Read more