A Tangled Web

Seven Drunken Nights



On Sunday 6th June the BBC gave us a stark insight into the contrasting generations that now make up the British population. In the afternoon we were treated to the delight of hundreds of Normandy veterans proudly representing their country. Their collective posture and pride, together with the numerous recollections of their bravery, was a joy to behold. They are the last of a generation that could recognise basic human decency, show respect for authority and be depended upon to do their duty when asked to do so.



Later, in the evening, the great British public watched the youthful end of our demographic profile engaging in street fighting, disgusting exhibitionism, vomiting, and foul and abusive remonstrations - all consequences of the over-indulgence of alcohol. These types represent a generation that has grown up without a decent education, a lack of parental discipline, and frankly more money than it knows what to do with. Couple the availablity of cash with brains so tiny they struggle to make the basic human senses work adequately, and you have such vile scenarios replicated the length and breadth of Britain. Whatever the arguments for and against the relaxation of licensing laws (I am in favour of tighter regulations), there is no question that anyone who believes that an enjoyable night out consists solely of massive alcohol intoxication, a fight, a vomit into a municipal drain at 2am, an altercation with the local police and then, finally, procreative congress with someone they have know barely 30 seconds, needs urgent attention from a reputed psychoanalyst.