Society has become sick
with some nameless malady of the soul. We have become the playthings
of corporations intent on converting our world into a gargantuan shopping
precinct. Pleasantness and civility are being discarded as the worthless
ephemera of a bygone age - an age when men doffed their hats at the
ladies, and small children could be counted upon to mind one's Jack
Russell while one took a mild and bitter in the local hostelry.
Instead, we live in a world
where children are huge hooded creatures lurking in the shadows; the
local hostelry has been taken over by a large chain that specialises
in chilled lager, whose principal function is to aggravate the nervous
system. Needless to say, the Jack Russell is no longer there upon one's
return.
The Chap proposes to take
a stand against this culture of vulgarity. By turning ancient rituals
of courtesy and dress into revolutionary acts, the immaculately attired
Anarcho-Dandyist can use the razor-sharp crease in his trousers to press
home his advantage. Once presented with the dazzling sight of rakishly
angled trilbies, gleaming brogues and exquisitely mixed dry martinis,
hoi polloi's long-cherished nylon sportswear and strawberry milkshakes
will suddenly lose their appeal.
It is time for Chaps and
Chapettes from every walk of life to stand up and be counted. Naturally
unsuited to all forms of exertion, we propose a Charmed Uprising based
on excessive languor and delivering pleasantries such as "How do
you do?" and "A very good day to you, madam!" with revolutionary
zeal. Our methods will be stealth, civility and charm, our targets the
behemoths of corporate blandification. We urge sympathisers to assist
our cause by engaging in the following agit fop:
Enter the establishments
owned by Messrs Burger and King, and request a table for two with a
view of the aquarium, then order devilled kidneys, potatoes Dauphinoise
and a glass of claret, and a Turkish boy to light your cigar.
In a branch of Starbucks
or Costa, request a pot of Lapsang souchong, a china cup and saucer
and ask which flavoured tobaccos are available in their hookahs.
In the premises of Mr Gap,
ask to be introduced to the head cutter, the cravat maker and the breeches
maker.
In a high street hostelry
such as O'Neills, order a Pousse Café (the yolk of one fresh
egg, 1/6 gill of yellow Chartreuse, 1/6 gill of Eau de Vie de Danzig,
or Danziger Goldwasser).
Enter an ophthalmic optician
and ask to see the monocle selection.
Enter an establishment offering “Internet chat rooms” and
try to engage someone in conversation.
Offer “gentlemen of
the road” (hobos) not money – which they might spend on
food – but a nip of cognac from your hip flask.
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