There’s a few little matters that are swimming around my head right now. Individually, a little too brief to deserve a whole post to themselves. Anyone who writes knows a good clearout is like weeding the garden – new growth can come through when you are no longer distracted by now excised items that were showing little sign of further growth, and obscuring fresh progress. You know I like a metaphor.
Above is, allegedly, according to an unverifiable source, a proposed campaign image for a mental health charity. An upsurge in cases citing this as an appalling and gratuitous symbol of banality prompted action. As responses ranged from making sufferers ‘feel nauseous’ to others ‘looking up train timetables’, it was decided the nausea pathway was more publicly palatable.*
(*this sensitivity was due to the kerfuffle raised when certain animal charities broke the morality barrier by mailshoting images of emaciated and clearly demised ‘pets’*, or if you want to be grandiose ‘animal companions’. The public were unhappy when breakfasting infants collecting the post off the doormat were traumatised, becoming tearful, grieving and permanently scarred, so the ‘tactic’ was stopped. The perpetrators remained puzzled as they were adamant that ‘clearly the end justified the means’.)
*Our nation of animal lovers clearly get confused with ‘pet’ and ‘victim’.
Why are Electric cars so ugly?
A lot of ‘EV’s’ look like cars kids have drawn. Not surprising when Postman Pat’s van is fairly high profile for under 6’s, but I’m guessing (hoping) vehicle designers are not big Cbeebies viewers. The Japanese used to design a lot of stuff like that, probably still do, but it’s never been that popular anywhere else. Many look purpose built for users who may be less physically capable.
Point being, why? I know there are batteries and weight distribution (technical factors) to consider but there’s still room to have some nice aesthetics and a little flair. There can only be one conclusion. It’s being done on purpose.
It’s designed to show committent to matters environmental. In other words owners have transcended the crass eye pleasing materialistic marketing normally ascribed to the car industry. This rejection clearly defines their green credentials. You no longer care what people think about what you drive because you care more for the planet. It might remind people of duck egg blue and fibreglass*, but you’ve risen above that and can now look down smugly upon them – having paid a hugely inflated price to do so – and say, ‘I’m doing my bit! What about you?’
You will have a lot of time to reflect on your personal sacrifice as you sit charging for 6 hours in the services – in your mobile** sanctimonious virtue gesture (car) – trying to eke out the £8 vegan cheese sandwich you just bought to add some further justification to your stop – and wishing you’d swallowed your outrage and paid the shameless profiteering fee for fast charging.
*a bit of online interrogation will be needed for some on this, particularly if you are under 40. Possibly you’ll thank me for enlarging your knowledge database, but that’s doubtful.
**when finally charged – lucky you weren’t in a hurry!
Is there a word for some types?
Maybe it’s my ignorance, I don’t spend enough (insert ‘any’) time on social media getting the gen/gen. But surely there’s a word for those people who always correct you for perceived transgressions or contradictions to ‘accepted’ (media driven) social conventions. For example when I was speaking to a nurse at the hospital a while back;
Nurse: We have a right problem with kids running about on the ward. The parents won’t be told and it’s not fair on the other patients. Little buggers!
Me: You should have a naughty cupboard. Lock them in there, they can fight it out amongst themselves. Maybe supply a weapon or two for the entertainment value?
As we chuckled at the clearly silly scenario a voice piped up from about 20 feet away. It was a male nurse who wasn’t part of the conversation, nor likely to be.
He: You’re not allowed to say things like that. If the Social Services heard you there would be a lot of trouble for you.
Most humans would think he was going to start laughing momentarily. We waited – nothing. He was serious. At this point, as a retort wandered into my mind, I was reminded of one of my favourite Mark Twain quotes;
Never argue with an Idiot, they’ll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.
The point being, if common sense and a sense of humour had failed to embed itself in 35+ years, a witticism from me was unlikely to cause an epiphany. It would be a frustrating waste of time to bother replying. The nurse looked at me and rolled her eyes. We both moved away. She later remarked that she didn’t know him and was a little pissed that he felt that his PC ‘advice’ authorised listening to, and taking part in someone else’s conversation. Sadly, it seems he is not alone nowadays. Probably a member of one of the Unions for the self entitled, the ones with supposedly punchy single word titles, much loved by the left as it may be a verb or just imply activity. This is often a myth and forward momentum and change is often what members reject most strongly. Do not suggest ‘Luddite’.
Yes, there are general terms we can use for people like this, many prefixed with the ‘F’ word – one wonders what a group of these would be like to spend time with, Eeek! – but is there a specific term that can be used? If there is it can’t be well known. A collective noun would be great for the group. Perhaps a ‘Fester’?
Another one that should have a specific descriptor is the woman you often meet while picking kids up at school, or she’s part of an older social group – perhaps one of your mum’s friends: wears a lot of animal print outfits and celebrity fragrances. She’ll always be a ‘Nan’ not a ‘Granny’, although she’ll be less goat, more mutton. Thing is she’ll prattle on, bragging incessantly, about her 11 year old grandson and how he’s definitely going to become a premier league footballer as he goes training on a Tuesday night, and somebody or other said he was good. Unlikely, as his chubby frame’s (although adorned in branded gear, 24/7) deficiencies means he’s normally off school Wednesday to recover. Additionally he ‘can do all that rapping and stuff’. ‘Stuff’ being blowing raspberries into his hand and making steam train noises, which he thinks is beatboxing. He is likely to talk like Tim Westwood (but a couple of octaves higher) and make pistol shooting gestures while calling people ‘Man’ and ‘Bro’, including his mum.
You may see him in public, around his plump neck a pearl necklace (the mind boggles for those of you who associate that term elsewhere – although, whilst he sports a first-rate set of man boobs, he’s unlikely to be a choirboy). Probably he’s ‘flossing’ with his mates, recording it on his phone while making ‘hand hearts’ to each other and innocent passers by. His Nan will think this is awesome, everyone else will wanly smile with pity and wonder whether he has his own dealer yet.
Don’t these people have specific descriptors, like the Japanese have Chigyu for certain nerdy people? They’re not that rare.
Banter – Term made popular by thick people, describing a substitute for wit and humour.
Much beloved by children of primary school age, footballers and people from reality TV (in order of potential intellect).
This ‘comedic’ concept enables stupid people to insult or be rude to others without comeback. All that is needed, post abuse, is to move the body slightly to the rear whilst raising the palms towards the affronted person whilst uttering the hackneyed phrase – ‘Just a bit of Banter. No offence, Mate!‘ Sickly grin is optional but usually worthless.
It must be kept in mind that often this individual will be the only person amused by their own comments. The fact that nobody else thinks they’re funny usually escapes them. They are stretched to understand what goes on in their own head, let alone anyone else’s. There is no known cure.
Well, I hope I’ve made some room for something worthwhile. Stylish with gravitas, and great literary impact. Ahh.. tis’ but a dream…
Image and Article Copyright © 2026 by L.C McCarthy
This is a work of fiction.
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