Boggart Blog recoiled in horror on reading a news item about child poverty earlier this week. As part of the government’s plan to abolish child poverty by making everybody poor, in the future all state school pupils will be force fed school dinners. A Department of Education spokesperson said that forcing everybody to eat the same vile grey sloppy mess as prison inmates and hospital patients are given will help close the gap between rich and poor.
Our reporter, acting on parents fears that their childrens’ taste buds would be destroyed spoke to one of the likely victims of this policy, The Hon Jonty Lyttleton – Titt (aged eight) to lean how he and other posh kids will no longer be able to have their favourite Fortnum and Mason packed lunch hamper delivered in a Rolls Royce and served by a liveried footman. Instead they will have to eat the politically correct shite only fit for Guardian readers which has found it’s way onto school dinners menus courtesy of that fat tongued mockney posh boy Jamie Oliver.
Jonty told our reporter: “Obviously one is disappointed one will no longer be allowed one’s favourites like fois gras and roast suckling pig and will have to eat prole food. If the school want to abolish child poverty Daddy says it would be better to make proles eat the kind of stuff I like, cavair, chicken in aspic, smoked salmon, lobster pate and huge slices of cake with lashings of whipped cream. Daddy says that might give them the motivation to get off their arses and make a decent life for themselves.
Mummy (Jonty’s mother, Lib Dem MEP Femi-Nesta la Castrata) disagrees. She says the poor are genetically predisposed to choke on fine foods and we should concentrate on weaning them off pot noodles and take away pizza and teach them to eat tofu and cous cous and adopt a more ethical lifestyle.
Then Daddy said if Mr. Dave, the man with the shiny face give him a hundred toffs with shotguns and release ten thousand proles on our grouse moor and do the same for all other rich people he would soon solve poverty and unemployment .
That seems a little harsh to me but I am only eight and therefore not old enough to understand the socio – economic dynamics of post industrial society.
I do not know if I shall like prole food. Everyone says they eat something called Spotted Dick and Grandmama says it was spotted dick that made Grandpapa go raving mad and die. Which sounds like good fun because if I was mad I could run round with a big knife and shout “WUUUURRRRRGGGGGH I’m the mad serial killer, WUUUURRRRRGGGGGH” and scare the servants.
I should not wish to try Donor Kebab of course which proles eat all the time. It might be quite safe to eat but one would need to know that the donor came from a good familiy. If there was a chance it might have been one of Smelly Hatchett – Jobbs relatives I am sure I would throw up because they are all alcoholics and druggies, or victims of society who need our help as Mummy says.
I think school dinners should be left as they are, let rich people eat rich peoples’ food and poor people eat things they like because rich people are different. Mummy eats endives and sushi and Waldorf salad and she is slim and pretty. I do think she is a bit too thin because she gets hurt easily like when she has tennis lessons. One day at the country club Larsson the tennis coach was giving her one in the exercise room it made her scream terribly Oh God, Oh my God, Oh, Oooh.
If I had been bigger I would have run in and punched him right on the nose and said “that will teach you not to hurt my Mummy, you cad.”
But even if Mama is not very strong she always looks lovely in her evening gowns. The mummys of poor kids all have a fag in their mouth and spotty faces and a bottle of cider in their bag and they wear tight leggings that have a camel’s toe inside them and they wear halter tops and have a big roll of flab hanging out round the middle and goes blobber blobber blobber when they walk along.
I’m sure that is not classy but I bet they could rough up Larsson the tennis coach.
Perhaps I will eat proles food after all.
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