Doing Middle Class

by Derek Bateman

POSSIBLY the worst example of cringe I remember was on a flight home to Glasgow from Copenhagen. It was a commuter jet, not much more than a cigar tube with wings and the first two rows were filled with Scots, a small squad of working men returning from an assignment. They effed and ceed their way noisily through the flight in earshot of all, cackling and hooting, led on by the gang chief whose every barb brought hoops of mirth. Like all groups of men without women they reverted to the infantile - five year olds thrilled by using bad words. Except there actually were women on board and one of them was bravely serving them while pretending not to hear. Their contempt for her made me angrier. After a while the stewardess put her face close to mine, with her back to them, and whispered that there were seats further back if I wanted to move. I declined, feeling she might need some close support if it got more out of hand.