Second opinion
WHEREVER did Rousseau get his idea that the trouble with Man was civilisa- tion? Never has a philosophical premise received quite so incontestable a refuta- tion as in modern England, where half the population at least is quite untouched by civilisation, and yet could not possibly be called good by even the most indulgent of observers.
For example, the other day I was in a small post office within sight of the prison, buying a few stamps, when a man approximately the size of a brontosaurus came up behind me and said, 'Move, and I'll blow yer fucking 'ead off.' It was a joke, which his two mates found hilari- ously funny; but it was not a joke that the local postmasters, who live in perpet- ual fear, would have found very amusing.
As for children, I realised a long time ago that they were no good. I knew, because I wasn't up to much myself. I remember selling a worthless postage stamp to a gullible classmate as the rarest stamp in the world, which I couldn't let him have for a penny but could for a shilling. Later, by way of grat- itude for my generosity, he confided in me that his father was in prison for fraud, a piece of information which I bruited about like a town crier. I was ten at the time and knew I was a swine.
At the age of 12 I was given Lord of the Flies to read, and my opinion of chil- dren took a turn for the worse.
I have found no reason to revise my opinion upwards, especially of English children. For example, last week I decid- ed to take a bus from my hospital into town. I walked to the nearest bus stop, where I whiled away the time observing such interesting things as the trajectory down the road of a chewed apple core, tossed out of the window of a passing car, and the use of the road by drivers as a municipal ashtray.
Three young children — two boys and a girl aged about eight — arrived at the bus stop. I was interested to overhear what they had to say to each other: evi- dently they were talking of a fellow pupil.
`I'd like to batter 'im,' said the little girl.
`I could of knocked him out,' said one of the boys. 'Only I didn't want to make him cry in the playground.'
`We could batter 'im together after school,' said the third child helpfully. `Kick 'is 'ead.'
A couple with a child aged about two now approached the bus stop. The man had very short hair which was neverthe- less greased. He had the blue tattooed spot on his cheek which proclaimed him an alumnus of borstal, and the name Lisa tattooed on his neck. On his hands I saw tattooed the ominous letters APL, which stand for Anti-Paki League.
His consort had spiky bleached hair and seven earrings in one ear. She wore a black leather jacket with more studs than the Catholic clergy, Her child was pretty enough, but already had an expression of fixed malignity; his nostril was pierced by a nose stud.
The bus came and we all got on it. The child of two immediately ran up the aisle screaming. His mother's consort called him back.
`Get yer fucking arse over 'ere.'
As they say, like stepfather, like step- son.
Theodore Dalrymple
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