Rod Liddle

Selfish Whining Monkeys: How we Ended Up Greedy, Narcissistic and Unhappy


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      Fourth Estate

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

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      London SE1 9GF

       4thestate.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by Fourth Estate 2014

      Text © Rod Liddle 2014

      Rod Liddle asserts his moral right to

      be identified as the author of this work

      A catalogue record of this book is

      available from the British Library

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      Cover photograph © Frantzesco Kangaris / eyevine

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      Source ISBN 9780007351275

      Ebook Edition © May 2014 ISBN: 9780007351305

      Version 2015-03-10

      For Alicia

      … remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.

      William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Dedication

       Epigraph

       1 Aeroplanes

       2 The Tower of Arse

       3 The Waiting

       4 Move

       5 The Culture of Narcissism

       6 Married With Kids

       7 Grand Theft Auto versus Boredom

       8 And All Women Agree With Me About This

       9 Class

       10 Deference

       11 Faux-Left

       12 Juristocracy

       13 Cloistered Elites 5, the North 0

       14 Choice

       15 Hairs, HAIRS, Growing Out of Your Spinal Column …

       16 The Muon and the Elephant in Your Sitting Room

       17 Deutsch–Amerikanische Freundschaft

       The End

       Index

       Text Permissions

       About the Publisher

       Aeroplanes

      Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,

      Shaped to the comfort of the last to go

      As if to win them back.

      Philip Larkin

      I got an aeroplane for Christmas when I was six years old. Not a real one, but a heavy tinplate thing with chunky red flashing plastic lights on the wings and some sort of noise box which made a sound like one of those heaving 1950s vacuum cleaners, a piercing shriek like it was undergoing a hysterectomy without anaesthetic. I’d seen it in, I think, the toy department of Selfridges in Oxford Street on the annual trip to town where I got to visit Santa’s grotto and choose my present for the year. I can remember right now standing by the counter piled up with all these unimagined and beguiling toys and seeing the aeroplane up on top, lights flashing, screaming away – a big BOAC passenger liner – and being utterly, if momentarily, captivated by it.

      ‘Why would you want a plane?’ my mum asked with a sort of perplexed distaste as we stood there. None of us had ever been on one, nor were likely to. Aside from the unimaginable cost and the fear of flying, my family didn’t really hold with abroad on account of it being too hot and full of wogs. My dad had been abroad only once, briefly, to shell bits of Belgium during those interminable, drawn-out final stages of the Second World War. I still have a replica of the MTB he served on, carved with rough approximation to detail out of the brass casing of a German shell which had hit his boat but – mercifully, for my dad and by extension me – not detonated. They shelled Belgium after it had been liberated, according to my dad,