You won’t like to hear this but Llandudno is floundering in a cesspool of depravity. This is despite the best efforts of the Jet Set.
Now that you’ve let that fact settle in, here’s the meat of the argument; the standard of manners, etiquette and general decorum (the very thing that separates man from the animals) is so low in Llandudno that it may as well be non-existant. This, to understate immensly, is very worrying.
Now I know what you’re thinking; “Oh no, he’s abandoned his revolutionary credentials to become part of the silent majority. He’s going to start ranting about the Gay-Scottish-Political Correctness Gone Mad Brigade-Mafia’s effect on this sceptured isle and about how life used to be better under Pinochet….” Well that’s not the case my friends, the carefully balanced prejudices about to be ejaculated are far more intellectual.
Let’s face it, Llandudno is more depraved now than it used to be. I imagine that you are now muttering indignantly at your computer’s screen about such a bold statement. You’ll be wondering how I can possibly besmirch, nay libel, the good citizens of the “The Queen of Welsh Resorts”. I know I risk ostracism but I feel that I must highlight the depths of depravity.
You don’t need to be a battle-hardened Social Scientist like me to find evidence. All anyone need do is venture into any of Llandudno’s hostelries and it will be there, as clear as the scowl on a teenage face. In fact members of the Jet Set have been subjected to the philistine attitude of Llandudno’s bovine masses 3 times in the last week and a half and it’s time to say enough is enough.
Firstly, I had just entered a hackney carriage when I was immediately assaulted with the phrase “Why don’t you order a taxi when you actually want it, yeah!!!” by the “bloke” driving. I found the first part of the sentence to be fine as I must have kept him waiting for all of 3 minutes, but he felt the need to add the “yeah” on to the end, ye gods. As I was about to leave the confines of the hackney charge I declined to bid him farewell, I merely handed him the fare. This act of gross impertinence lead to my outing as an “Ignorant Fucker.” “Hold on now,” I thought to myself, “a member of the public has just called me an “Ignorant Fucker”, my ears must have been deceived.” I attempted to ascertain the veracity of the statement, it turns out that I had misheard him, he had merely wishing me a fond farewell. I debated whether to castigate the troglodyte but thought it would be wasted on someone evidently on day release from an open prison.
Then as if that wasn’t enough, later the same night some members of the Jet Set were trying to obtain refreshment in the local sticky-carpeted nightspot. The Jet Set should know better than to darken the doors of such an establishment but the intoxicating power of Absinthe plays havoc with your reasoning. So I was at the bar waiting patiently and eventually the chance to be served presented itself. At last nectar was in our reach on this particularly sticky night. Just as I was about to spake forth our order some teenage harpie screeched her request. As I endeavoured to point out the order of things the Harpie replied “Yeah but I work here or whatever”. I took solace in the fact that she looks like the type of person that’ll be sacked for offering executive relief whilst glass collecting on the dancefloor.
A week later and the Jet Set are still trying to be served, damn manners. The barman indicates that he was about to take my order! The words are just coming when a young hand disdainfully thrusts forward into the barman’s face. The young man attached to it was obviously attempting to beat me to overcoming thirst. He made this movement whilst simultaneously holding money in that haughty style that only truly special people can pull off with aplomb. Now being a person whose manners are renowned in the Conwy Valley area at weekends I let him gain satisfaction before me, unfortunately this act went unthanked. Just after I thanked providence for placing me next to such a marvellous specimen I casually enquired: “Why do people like you never say thank you.” His comeback: “Mate. mate, mate” Oh yes it was my fault. Ooops!! My manners had slipped again, naughty Eric. Let’s hope that one day a judge will sentence him to exile on St. Helena.
So there it is, conclusive proof that standards are slipping.
I recommend the following action to address the situation; everyone should be issued with a stamp that prints the legend “UNCULTURED” on to skin. When anyone has been treated with disdain or afforded a lack of consideration the offended person will be able to stamp the perpetrator on the forehead. The ink will be indelible so the offender can’t hide their heinousness.
Now for the good part; Special Snatch squads will be able to pick up the easily identifiable suspects. The suspects will then be sent to special cultural re-education camps for conditioning. This may sound a touch draconian but it’s the only language that these twats will understand totally.