I’ve found the reason why the generations can’t get along
Modern life is beginning to feel like an endless battle between the young and the old. In recent years, the two have become bitterly divided over everything from Brexit to building houses. And, according to an opinion poll, the war between the generations now has a bizarre new front.
For some unfathomable reason, the pollsters at Yougov decided to ask the public the following question. Say it’s a Thursday morning. How do you refer to the coming weekend?
The result, incredibly, turned out to be even more peculiar than the question. Because it turns out that only the young refer to the coming weekend as “this weekend”. Whereas the old refer to it as “next weekend”.
Until now, I must admit that I’d never given this burning issue much thought. I’d always assumed that everyone, like me, referred to it as “this weekend”. So to be told otherwise has shaken me to the core. Millions of my fellow citizens, it seems, think of this weekend as next weekend – and all this time, I had no idea. I feel so out of touch. It’s like 2016 all over again.
I suppose, now that I’m forced to think about it, calling it “next weekend” does make a kind of sense.
Chronologically speaking, it’s undeniable. The coming weekend will always be the next weekend we live through. No argument there.
All the same, though, I can’t help feeling there’s a tiny flaw in that system. Because if the coming weekend is “next weekend”, when is “this weekend”?
According to the logic of the old, “this weekend” must be last weekend. But in that case, when is “last weekend”? It must be the weekend before last weekend.
No doubt this all makes perfect sense to older readers.
But to a fresh-faced young whippersnapper of 40, like I am, it’s bewildering. I feel as if I’ve lost all grasp of time and meaning. I’m like Alice staggering through Wonderland, dazedly questioning everything she thought she knew. When is last weekend? Which way do the hands of a clock move? What is Tuesday?
It may sound like a trivial issue. But I believe it has profound significance. In fact, I suspect it’s the source of all our current intergenerational strife. This is why the young and the old don’t get on any more: they never actually talk to each other. Because it’s impossible for them to arrange a time to meet up.
“Hi Grandma, just a quick call to see how you’re doing. Mind if I come and visit you sometime?” “Sounds lovely, Oscar dear. How about next weekend?” “Great. See you then, Grandma.”
But of course, the young wretch doesn’t show up. Because he thinks he’s meant to be visiting the weekend after. Grandma’s livid. Feels snubbed and forgotten. Cuts him out of her will and never speaks to him again. Until we can thrash out a formal agreement as to when “next weekend” is, I fear that the generational divide is only going to grow and grow.
Exciting news for anti-vaxxers. A holiday resort in Wales has decided to ban visitors who have had their jabs. From now on, only the unvaccinated will be permitted entry. The owner of the Blaeneinion resort, Sharon Girardi, said: “With great sadness we have made the decision that we will be unable to welcome folk onsite that are ‘vaccinated’ with the experimental CV19 jab.”
Personally, I have no objection. If the owner of this or indeed any other business wishes to exclude the vaccinated, that’s entirely their prerogative. I have only one question. How can they tell?
Put it like this. I’m double-jabbed. But if I booked a visit to this resort, and told the staff I was unvaccinated, how would they know I was lying?
Perhaps they’ve invented a machine that can detect Bill Gates’s microchips. Or perhaps they would press their mobile phones to my forehead, to see if it connects them to 5G. Or perhaps, like the unfortunate friend of Nicki Minaj’s cousin, my true vaccination status would be given away by my testicles abruptly swelling to the size of space hoppers.
If not, the staff may find sorting the vaccinated from the unvaccinated to be impossible. Thankfully, though, I have a simple solution. Anti-vaccine passports. Starting immediately, the Government should issue every anti-vaxxer in Britain with official certification, confirming their unvaccinated status. Anti-vaxxers must carry this certification everywhere, and produce it on demand to gain access to all antivaxxer events and gatherings. No anti-vaccine passport, no entry.
It’s the only way they can preserve their liberty.
A troubling development from Europe. The Dutch have long been the tallest people in the world. But suddenly they’ve started to shrink.
I don’t mean literally. Fans of Liverpool needn’t panic. Virgil van Dijk hasn’t turned into a hobbit. But according to a new report, the average height in the Netherlands (over 6ft for men, 5ft 8in for women) is declining. Apparently, the main reason is immigration. People from shorter countries are pouring in, and bringing the average height down.
At this rate, the Dutch could soon lose their proud record. The prospect is bound to distress them.
In my view, the answer is a strict, points-based immigration policy, with preference given to people from certain valued professional backgrounds. For example, basketball players, catwalk models and supermarket shelf-stackers.
No doubt immigrants will protest, and say that they’re sick of the Dutch looking down on them.
To be fair to the Dutch, though, they can hardly help it.