Most of my friends are failures…

Useless buggers, the lot of them.

First of all they failed to be born to very rich parents. I don’t mean the sort of ‘rich’ people who can shop in Waitrose…I mean the sort of rich people who probably own Waitrose and most of Argyll and Bute. The sort that call their personal concierge doctors ‘staff’, the sort who enjoy burning £50 notes in the faces of children dying of cancer in hospital and think nothing of spending a £1,000 on diamond encrusted loo rolls made of paper that wipes your arse for you.

Secondly, they failed at going to a ‘good’ school aka Eton, Winchester and Harrow and then failed to get into an ‘elite university’ such as Oxbridge. They instead were part of the common herd relegated by successive Tory and Tory lite governments to an education in which success is measured by getting to the sixth form without being buggered by the Gym teacher while retaining some semblance of self esteem after years of acne filled self abuse. They failed at getting into a school which will fast track one’s opportunity to run the country by providing you with an ego in inverse proporation to ability while fashioning some facade of competence onto an otherwise incompetant smug but smooth face.

Thirdly, they failed at getting a FTSE 100 Chief Executive Officer’s job in which they receive, not earn, over £3 million per year in salary alone. This failure to sharp elbow their way into positions of executive power has meant for most of them, they have to forego the agonies of finding tax accountants and corporate lawyers in which to hide their wealth offshore in tax havens. They then have to forego the pleasure of whining about how much tax they do pay, bleating on about themselves being ‘tax heroes’ while pleading a poverty that reduces their consumption of quails eggs and caviar to the barest minimum so that at their dinner parties the Saudi Prince has to send out for a KFC instead (Goat salad with an eyeball side being a firm favourite I hear).

Many have failed to be born a upper middle class white man, and instead chose to be born female and some of them even choose to be an ethnic minority! This results in the failure to easily accumulate wealth because the work they do either pays little or nothing at all. Child care, cleaning, cooking, catering, and caring for older people are all jobs many of them ‘chose’ without realising the absence of holiday pay, a decent pension and decent hourly rates made them the original gig economy and zero hours workers! Losers! Instead, they get to revel in clearing up the faeces produced by the owners of the very mouths they fed earlier in a never ending circle of hell that cannot be easily outsourced except to other poorly paid women who pay more in tax than their CEO does.

Then, oh the shame, they failed at becoming ‘celebrities’ – they have avoided becoming known for doing something quite well, something that we might like to (and often can) do ourselves, like singing a bit, dressing up on stage or running fast. They failed in even trying to be the best, and then in forgetting that for every Ed Sheeran, Jennifer Aniston or Usain Bolt, there are thousands of ‘failures’ who either missed being picked up by the music industry, fail to get ‘the’ part due to the enormous competition or are just a second slower.

One thing my friends do share is failure to be total c*nts (well, a few are and they know who they are !) But, ‘failure’ to be wealthy, famous and socially connected is very very common, it is everywhere and is to be embraced. Failure is not to be measured by wealth, schooling, or visibility. Failure is to be found in not sharing our common humanity, in not realising our common purpose, in not understanding or caring about others’ hurts and personal failures. Failure is being surrounded by great wealth while nurturing a self absorbed, narcississtic, arrogant poverty of spirit that stigmatises, blames and shames those less ‘successful’. Failure is relegating compassion and care to be of secondary importance to accounting for the bottom line.

I’m glad my friends are that sort of failure.

Published by Lance Goodman

Freelance writer, bon vivant and all-round good oeuf.

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