Inbred chavs with empty lives. That’s what many people say that Morecambe is full of — rat-like Untermenschen seething with malice and desperate to find ways to forget their low status and the futility and meaninglessness of their existence.
This is very unfair. Although Morecambe has plenty of chavs, they are not at all inbred. Unlike chavs elsewhere, they are highly intelligent and full of benevolence. And they lead very exciting and interesting lives. That’s why they need to take an occasional break from the excitement and remind themselves how lucky they are…
Another thing which puzzled and disturbed me, even in some of the best-preserved mansions, was the tightly shuttered condition of many third-story and attic windows. Furtiveness and secretiveness seemed universal in this hushed city of alienage and death, and I could not escape the sensation of being watched from ambush on every hand by sly, staring eyes that never shut.
While he stood at the urinal he managed, with a little more fingering, to get it unfolded. Obviously there must be a message of some kind written on it. For a moment he was tempted to take it into one of the water-closets and read it at once. But that would be shocking folly, as he well knew. There was no place where you could be more certain that the telescreens were watched continuously.
And it is incident most to them, that are conscious of the fewest abilities in themselves; who are forced to keep themselves in their own favour, by observing the imperfections of other men. And therefore much Laughter at the defects of others is a signe of Pusillanimity. For of great minds, one of the proper workes is, to help and free others from scorn; and compare themselves onely with the most able.