Summer rolls around and a stroll through Waterloo station on a weekend means seeing gaggles of shrieking banshees in ridiculous hats and orange streaks on their legs and fat spilling out all over the
place, south-bound on the train to such esteemed destinations as either Henley-upon-Thames, Eton, Royal Ascot, Winchester, Wimbledon or thereabouts.
(Seriously watch that video, there’s a woman with a hat with a pot pie on it.)
Class is a funny thing. As an anti-snob-snob bellepoq at once deplores the ridiculous antics and hats of the elite at events like Ascot but also shakes her head at the admittance of chavs and other equally deplorable creatures to such events. (It is at this point that Winchester-educated friends will say, “Oh, but I would laugh so terribly hard when you send your child to boarding school, muahahaha!”, to which bellepoq emphatically says, “No, my child will not go to boarding school. It will go to…um…international school.”)
The Economist says, quite rightly, that events like Ascot are designed for mass appeal, as gambling draws together immortals and chavs as risk-taking is a bonding activity. Chav-safe places possibly include libraries, Islington gastropubs and Proms.
Bellepoq just had a flash of inspiration – should she ever find herself at Ascot (cough), she will turn up wearing the world’s biggest turban.
Bring turban to Henley! See, because we are also a chav-free area. Well, not quite, but mostly. And to satisfy the anti-anti-snob in you, there’s always the ‘wilderness’ of the countryside to ramble, where clearly snobs and chavs alike fear to tread.
turban is funny.
i like that you used the pronoun ‘it’ for your child.