Classy man...

I used to lay bricks for a living. And now I write. I've been in a conundrum for a number of years about what my position is in the class structure. Financially, I'd be much better off had I kept spinning a trowel around in one hand and picking up bricks in the the other, current credit crunch and constrution slowdown not withstanding. Of course, it's all a lot more complicated than fiscal wealth, but you can take the boy out of the council house and all that... Blimey, if there were a few more people like me there could even be a revolution.

Anyroad, I can almost sympathise with John Prescott. But his new documentary series The Class System and Me is a load of tosh (entertaining tosh, granted). "A chav? What is a chav? Is that internet speak?" "What the bloody hell's chinos?" What's with the croquet? What's with boasting to a load of teenage girls about the time he punched Chumbawumba in the ribs? And what's with Pauline's bloody hair? Although I did like it when he called the toffs at Henley Royal Regatta "the enemy".

Poor misguided JP. We will all die in the class we were born. All together now...and that's a class of my own my love.