I tell this anecdote because I was reminded of it by Boak & Bailey's post on Friday about the things that are never talked about in beer Blogger circles, one of them being the actual, authentic pub experiences of the working classes.
Now, me, I'm a member of the aforementioned proletariat. I have a relatively low paying job in retail and have never been to University. Somehow, I have acquired the ability to write coherently (which some would say disqualifies me from the working classes), but that's by-the-by.
Reading the majority of the beer blogs, it's quite obvious to me that their writers have had limited, or possibily none whatsoever, contact with ordinary working people. And I don't mean the " my dad's gardener was working class and we get on like a house on fire, actually" kind of contact. The Bloggerati have no idea what they enjoy or what their sense of humour is. Well, I will tell you - the working class sense of humour finds the above Gold Bunny tale hilarious
Witness Pumpclip Parade. The majority of the examples given are crude humour and cheap sexism. A middle class person will find a knob gag pumpclip unfunny. A middle class person will consider being in a place with such an item infra dig. A middle class person will even take a picture and send it to a website where their equally middle class peers will wholeheartedly agree that, yes, this is simply awful.
Meanwhile, the working class person, will laugh for a couple of seconds, order a pint, and not think about it again .
The problem as I see it is that the middle classes are encroaching on a hitherto almost exclusively working class domain. Ie. Beer and pubs. And they do not like what they see. So they try and usually succeed in making both beer and pubs more to their liking, be it modern interior design, rarified discussion and "tasteful" point of sale displays. This is called "gentrification" and is reckoned to be a good thing.
But where do the working class people go when this happens? Well, they've been pushed out of what was "their" space. So they either go somewhere else where they feel more comfortable, or they stay at home.
And the well-to-do like this. Out of sight, out of mind. No longer will they be offended and discomfited by crude humour and tacky surroundings.
But I ask the question - where do the working class go once everything they knew is gone? Where?