Visiting Mottingham

I found another cool pub yesterday, or rather the day before. On thursday I decided to do a little research into the racist moron on the tube train, and found out he was called Sammy Steele and that he lived in Mottingham. Checking the map, I found that  isn’t far from Eltham, so I decided a roll was in order. It is a nice, leafy suburb of well maintained houses: to get there I needed to go down Court Road, which is lined with very expensive looking houses indeed. There, I just had a little look around,  before popping into a pub for a coffee and heading home.

The Prince of Wales, Mottingham was nice and spacious with friendly barstaff. I got chatting to  the barlady, and saw they were showing the cricket. Being Thursday, it must have been a  repeat, so yesterday afternoon I headed back there to see if I could watch any of this week’s test. It had been a bit of a busy lunchtime being interviewed over Zoom by the guys at GAD – more on that soon – so a bit of chill time was in order. I got there at about half three, got out of my chair, and spent the rest of the day sipping beer watching some outstanding cricket.

The place was a bit more full than the day before, and I must say that over the course of the afternoon I overheard some of the other men in there spouting the type of moronic, racist bollocks we hear from the guy on the train. I got  so uncomfortable at one point that I almost left. A bald man was sitting with them, who turned  out to be one of the bar staff, possibly the owner. I spoke to him about it shortly after, explaining my views, and he assured me it was just banter. Yet we hear that type of highly provocative banter all over the place these days, spewn by cocky, working class men. They see theirselves as the ones being discriminated against while all the members of minorities get all the privileges. It is too easy to dismiss such ideas as absurd. What  concerns me is the growing social tensions underlying them.  Perhaps it is in such alcohol-fuelled gatherings, with poorly educated, working class men bouncing increasingly xenophobic ideas off eachother in pubs, that we see the origins of the  type of cocky dickhead we see getting knocked out on that tube train.

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