Children and the proletariat...

As our dear friend Kathy Griffin once said to us, “I hate children. They’re selfish – especially babies. The day I come home and a baby asks me how my day is going is the day I care about children”.

Friends, Gemma, and others, we here in number 62 Tennent Road have a problem. It’s not a big problem like world hunger or Bernadette Peters rapidly deteriorating voice, but it is a problem. We live in bogan central. Who knew that this picturesque suburb of Mount Hutton would be a beacon for ruffians, malcontents and the general unwashed? Certainly not us.

One only has to go to the local shopping centre to find barefooted, greasy haired, Shane Warne loving, unemployed people of the proletariat, who’s idea of a good night in is sitting drinking beer in their stubbies and wife beaters (while beating their wives). Honestly, it’s so lower bourgeois. A prime example of the working class antics that we have to put up with is, for instance, the other day when we ventured to Cölés Fine Foods to purchase pheasant farm pâté and caviar. While there, we were affronted by an unattractive… shall we say “woman” for purposes of this blog… and her brood of future criminals and centrelink frequenters. One of the more articulate urchins begged their mother to take them across the road to Henny Penny. The mother viciously berated the child, saying “We can’t go over there – we owe that woman money.”

Thus far, we have not met any of our neighbours – however, their children frequent our front lawn playing their insipid games at all hours of the day. Including school hours. I guess the parents figure, why fight genetics? They didn’t attend school past the 5^th grade, and they have made fine gum scrapers and exotic dancers.

Look… we didn’t mean for this blog to become a tirade against bogan children… or really children in general, but the Lord Jesus (often mispronounced “Hey Zeus”) obviously wanted us to write about this. Why fight the power of Yahweh? Gesundheit.

Obviously bogan children are the worst… but lets face it, all children are annoying and selfish little blighters. Whether they are running up and down the aisles of the supermarket screaming, whether they are running up and down the aisles of church screaming (shout out Hey-Zeus!), or whether they are running up and down the aisles of the cinemas screaming. Seriously guys, we just want to watch My Little Pony in peace without hearing their annoying laughter. They just don’t get it like we do. We really relate to that misunderstood pygmy horse. We get him. And he gets us. Those kids are just there for the popcorn and some cheap laughs.

Roald Dahl had the right idea. Through well meaning, but oft misunderstood characters like the Trunchball and The Grand High Witch, he communicated to us how evil children really are. Children should be all sent away to farms until they have grown into real people. When children are allowed to be on the loose, unfortunate accidents happen to poor, unsuspecting adults trying to live their lives. Who can forget the tragic loss of that poor witch who lived in the gingerbread house in the woods? Those children have a lot to answer for.

In conclusion… mainly because we’ve just realised this blog has nothing to do with being a good roommate, we herby conclude this blog with this concluding conclusion. Ooo said it too many times now… sounds weird.

*Disclaimer: While we didn’t want to write a disclaimer, we feel that it is important to make sure all our friends (particularly those with children) know that everything we have said should be taken tongue in cheek. We are not talking about your children. Your children are lovely and gifted. And they are going to grow into fine members of the community. Every single one of them is going to be the President of the United States. Or at least one of the lesser countries. Like Narnia.

Oh Mr. Tumnus… creepy pedophile.