What are we now allowed to say?
Pissed-off Toff observes that in a world in thrall to group-think, anyone with a mind of his own must be very careful of what he says, and where. As we … Keep Reading
This is the diary of a pissed-off toff.
That is pretty self-explanatory. But let me expand a little.
By birth, education and upbringing, I am what they call a toff. Furthermore, I am more or less permanently pissed-off about everything.
“Everything?” I hear you say.
Yes, jolly nearly everything. Not just the ever-more-numerous trials and tribulations of daily life in England; not just the infinitely depressing spectacle of my own country going down the tube while we all look on impotently; but also the fact that I am broke, dispossessed, and increasingly alienated from almost every aspect of the modern world.
“I say, aren’t you exaggerating a bit?” you ask.
Not really. Anyhow, this is my diary. Or, if you prefer, the fulminations of a pissed-off toff who wonders whether it is he or the world that has gone stark raving mad …
