Foul Play

#3 In all the code of behavior and manner, there are no red cards issued in the streets. The open space and park expanse is wild. This is the territory for the ruffians in tracksuits to piss on. Typically youngish and bullish in stature, these men are denoted as N.E.D.’s (Non-educated Delinquents), which is a sociological phenomenon and epidemic historical to Britain’s working class. In Liverpool, they are Scally’s, in Leeds, they are Chav’s, and so on.

And the drink of choice for Ned’s is one with potency of another level that only someone close to God could create. Buckfast, an outlawed drink in many parts of the world, is made in fact by monks, and is most popular among Ned’s. Once in effect, the beverage turns man to moron. Speech recognition and motor skills are impaired with great aerodynamic imprecision. In as much as Ned’s fill in for every politically incorrect joke, Ned’s are a real menace. Certainly this population is not one to be curtailed by condoms. Despite being mired in rampant alcoholism and abuse and residual sunburn, they occupy a big place in the tax code and low-income council estates. I spent a week observing a tribe from a kitchen window. From 10 am, they hung out in the foyer, swilling beer and high-fiving while their ladies hung up the sheets to dry and their kids crashed into each other on their 3-wheelers. Aye, there are female equivalents to Neds. Arguably, Nedette, Nedwina, Senga, and so on. Try as I may to summon understanding, their fight is not necessarily understood…