Speaking, as we were, of the Guardian’s imperious opinionator Polly Toynbee, madam’s latest outpouring finds her reflecting – if that’s quite the right word – on the burden of her own elevated status. The woes, as it were, of the upper-and-upper-middle-class socialist:

Wait for it.

Update, via the comments:

We’re also told that, as a child, Dear Polly “envied” her much poorer friends, with their “cheerful,” noisy, and rather small dwellings, which had “ever-open front doors.” Though, alas,

As a way to conjure gravitas and fish for sympathy, it’s a bold approach.

The point of the piece quoted above, a long and rambling extract from Ms Toynbee’s forthcoming memoir, is far from clear – as is Polly’s way. However, the gist seems to be that class is a terrible, terrible thing, and that our author, a descendant of the Ninth Earl of Carlisle, and whose life is cushioned by multiple homes, here and overseas, and a well-into-six-figure income, is every bit as much a victim of it. What with her fretting so much.

For brevity’s sake, I’ll attempt to paraphrase: ‘I have never known, and will never know, anything approaching poverty. My lack of diligence, or indeed competence, has never been a significant setback, on account of my class and privilege. Therefore, you should listen to me and do exactly as I say.’

Again, bold. Must be that “painful self-awareness.”

In the comments, further thoughts occur.

Update 2:

Regarding Polly’s purported envy of the humble and downtrodden, Mike D asks,

Which reminded me of the reliably ludicrous George Monbiot, a man who agonises over the “isolating” effects of disposable income, double glazing, and TV remote controls, and who believes that we – thee and me – should imitate the peasants of southern Ethiopia, where homes are made of leaves and packing cases, and where, despite Stone Age sanitation and alarming child mortality, “the fields crackle with laughter.”

For Dear Polly, mingling with the working class is somewhat similar, I should think.

Oh, and Mr Monbiot, lest we forget, was schooled at Stowe, an imposing boarding school in Buckinghamshire, where annual fees are a mere £36,000.

At which point, readers may discern the makings of a pattern.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

He likes to intimidate women and to pilfer things of no possible use to him.

Now tell him how pretty he is. Repeatedly.

Update, via the comments:

Note the obfuscatory use of the term TERF, which in context simply means women. Or non-compliant women. Or women caught off guard.

Oh, and a riposte of note:

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Little things. For instance,

Below the fold, you’ll find a short film by Rob Montz about Amy Wax, quoted above, a professor of law at the University of Pennsylvania.

Professor Wax has been mentioned here once or twice before. Generally regarding her observations of everyday phenomena that are seemingly unmentionable, at least on campus, and the performative indignation and outright hysteria that reliably ensues. As when students, supposedly adult intellectuals, claimed that the professor’s mere presence on campus was “physically and emotionally harming all of us,” with the law school’s Dean, Theodore Ruger, another supposed adult, invoking the “lasting trauma” of hearing her speak.

Notable moments in the film include Professor Glenn Loury summarising the inevitable consequences of “affirmative action” and wildly varying standards of admission – which, it seems, mustn’t be acknowledged realistically – and Professor Wax’s comment about the race-grifting “equity” establishment, and its opposite – gratitude.

A project is undertaken:

Years of “working through” one’s state of heftiness obviously being preferable to actual, you know, weight loss. Which, one suspects, might have taken less time. But hey, we mustn’t reach for the stars.

Fearlessly, heroically, said garment was duly rocked. The result, needless to say, is “cool-girl style vibes” – a “body-baring sheer look,” complete with what I’m assured are a corset and “strappy, rhinestone heels.”

Other perspectives are available.

When not “pushing boundaries” and invoking the feminism of taking up space “unapologetically,” the author, Ms Margie Plus, is a “confidence activist” and a musician. Those with a taste for pitch correction and overstretched PVC can behold her creativity here.

Via Mr Worstall.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

A question regarding this, and many others like it:

I wonder whether this absurdity is going to continue indefinitely, stretching into the future, beyond my lifetime. Or will it peter out, like any fad, and then be remembered with some embarrassment?

Via Karl.

Consider this an open thread.