[Thanks to Leasey]
My street is full of Guardian-readers. I have leafletted it many times for the Labour Party and rolled my eyes at the windows full of anti-war posters and photocopied invitations to “subversive” gatherings of poets and “thinkers”. I've tried hard not to get into arguments about pre-emptive military action and top-up fees, but I just want to scream at them: “You aren't progressives; you're political prudes! Really doing the right thing makes you feel dirty.” Middle-class people don't like getting their hands dirty. (That is why, for example, I pay my taxes. Dedicated professionals can then continue to kill or imprison crazed murderers and rebuild remote village schools on my behalf.)
There's a token working-class bloke living near the main road. He had a “Support Our Troops” Sun centre-spread up during the Iraq war and a cross of St. George hanging out of his upstairs window during Euro 2004. I think he's currently telling east Cambridge to reject the EU constitution. He probably votes Tory. I wonder if he would have put up the pro-war poster if he knew then what we know now.
I overheard the following through an open, gentrified front door while walking home yesterday. An early-middle-aged drabbie was calling up to her husband, “There's a spider down here that I wouldn't mind if you killed!”
When they dug That Man out of his spider hole I “didn't mind” so much that I put up my first non-Labour window decoration. It was a picture of Saddam with his face crossed out in red ink, taken from the front page of Time magazine.
There might have been some naked dancing as well.