SOME people think Ferrero Rocher are posh, but they’re the sort of scum who shop in Tesco. Here are some other things that are supposed to be posh, but aren’t.
After Eight mints
Back in the 80s, no self-respecting middle class dinner party was complete without a box of After Eights. That’s assuming you fell for the TV adverts showing posh people shoving them down their gobs at fancy parties and embassy receptions. In reality this was about as likely as a waiter saying, ‘More cheese strings and Vimto, ambassador?’
Posh people spend their days hunting animals and killing them, but then so do Rentokil blokes. Sadly hunting isn’t that different in principle to super-common bloodsports like hare coursing and dog fighting, although maybe they’d get a PR boost if everyone wore jodhpurs and sipped sherry while two pitbulls try to eat each other.
She was indeed posh – compared to Mels B and C. She looked posh – but the illusion was shattered when she opened her mouth. This didn’t happen too often because the rest of the band did the heavy lifting on the singing front, preferring to keep Posh’s pop talents confined to striding around the stage self-importantly.
Plug-in air fresheners
Sandalwood and jasmine sound posh, and so does vanilla blossom. But don’t be fooled. Plug-in air fresheners are strictly for the aspirational working class. Although given the rising cost of electricity, poshos with vast inherited wealth might soon be the only ones who can afford to run them, like having a Savile Row tailor or owning a horse.
It’s such a luxury, only well-heeled people must eat pre-grated cheese, right? No. It’s actually for lazy and drunk people, and the upper classes don’t eat cheese on toast at 1am after coming in from a pub crawl that ended with Jagerbombs and pissing in a bin in Croydon town centre.
Dishwashers are for the middle classes. The only kind of dishwasher you’ll find in a genuinely posh house is one from Italy or Portugal and called Sofia or Beatriz, who gets paid minimum wage and has to sleep in the attic before getting up at 6am to prepare breakfast for the whole family.
‘Jacob’ only pretends to be an aristocrat and it’s all an act. He was actually born the seventh of nine feral children in a terraced council house with a broken fridge in the front garden. He made his fortune in the scrap metal trade, not hedge funds, and lives in fear of people finding out his real name is Jay Tyson Boggs.