“Filth pretending to be us” - 9/23/2007
Hello esteemed bloggers, I was on my way home from a wine tasting party and decided to go through a neighbourhood known as Pollok. This place seemed nice, and people seem middle class, but despite what it seems, they are nothing but lower class filth pretending to be someone. Keep in mind that they were wearing normal people's clothing. In addition to that, they also went as far as to act like normal people. However, I know better than to believe their filthy lies. Given that they reeked of poverty, I instantly knew what their place was. Which is why I went as far as to inform you all beautiful upper class specimens thereby protecting you of the hellscape that is Pollok. Furthermore, I decided to look into their putrid houses through their nasty windows, and discovered that my suspicions were correct. I tried confronting one of their parasites about living here. I tried to reason with them, telling them that our beautiful city is no place for scum. But he got angry at me for spreading the truth. I then continued to walk, passing by a lot of horrible sights like kids screaming and laughing, it was the most irritating noise. I told them to respect the people around them by not making so much noise, and the mother got really angry with me! I just said: “Uhh, it is not my fault that you are a terrible mother.” And she started yelling, so I just left. Those animals have no respect, adhere to my advice and never EVER get anywhere near there.
“Peasants amongst us” - 9/23/2002
Dear fellow bloggers, I must regale you with the tale of my most recent excursion through the dubious neighbourhood of Pollok. As I strolled homeward from a most civilised wine tasting soiree, I chanced upon this ostensibly respectable district, replete with individuals who, at first blush, appeared to be of a certain standing. Alas, my discerning eye soon pierced the veil of their pretensions, revealing them to be nothing more than common rabble masquerading as gentlemen and ladies of refinement.
Observe, if you will, how they donned the attire of respectable folk, and even affected the mannerisms of the upper echelons. But, I assure you, dear readers, I was not deceived. The pungent aroma of poverty clung to them like a bad omen, betraying their true station in life. In the interests of further investigation, I felt compelled to warn my fellow members of the upper class of the dangers that lurk in this benighted quarter.
In the interests of further investigation, I took the liberty of observing the squalid dwellings that line the streets of Pollok, peering through the grimy windows to uncover the truth. My suspicions were, of course, confirmed. I then endeavoured to engage one of the local inhabitants in a most reasonable and rational discussion, explaining to him that our fair city is no place for the likes of him. Alas, he took umbrage at my words, and I was forced to continue my promenade, lest I be drawn into a most unseemly altercation.
As I walked, I was assaulted by the cacophony of shrieking children, their laughter and playful shouts grating upon my refined sensibilities. I took it upon myself to admonish the mother of these unruly urchins, entreating her to instruct them in the importance of respecting those around them. Her response, I dare say, was most intemperate, and I was forced to retort, "My dear woman, it is not my fault that you are a neglectful parent." Her subsequent outburst prompted my hasty departure from the scene.
In conclusion, dear friends, I must impress upon you the importance of avoiding this wretched neighbourhood at all costs. The denizens of Pollok are, in truth, little better than beasts, devoid of the most basic notions of decorum and respectability. Heed my warning, and steer clear of this blighted district, lest you wish to sully your refined sensibilities by association with these lower-class miscreants.