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Bad language, good bediquette

I do enjoy hearing younger generations taking pieces of our language and making them their own. It’s almost as much fun as hearing older people awkwardly try to copy it.

I’m feeling (desperately hoping) ‘smashed it’ is finally losing its momentum. Although the equally hideous ‘you got this’ appears now to be in the ascendancy. ‘Them’s the breaks’, you might say  — assuming you take your linguistic direction from our outgoing Anus-in-Chief.

“Fair, fair, fair…”

I’m sitting in a cafe in Peckham and just a moment ago, a customer used three ‘fairs’ when told there would be a ten minute wait for his iced latte.

Mr Fair was indeed a mister, he was 37 if he was a day. What business does a 37 year old man have saying ‘fair’ three times in a row? No business, unless he’s especially excitable and spots a ferris wheel in the distance.

If I was the barista I would have told him to do one: “Fair? I’m so glad you think it’s fair, because I’ve got 11 coffees to make and there’s only me on today. So sit the fuck down and wait your turn.”

To my ears ‘fair’ implies seniority in the speaker. It’s as though having been given the information, they have deliberated, decided to deem it reasonable and are graciously prepared to allow it. What’s wrong with a simple, ‘no problem’?

I guess my reading of ‘fair’ is out of whack. I’ve heard it so much recently I can’t help feeling I’ve missed the TikTok where everyone agreed to use ‘fair’ in place of ‘good’, okay’, ‘fine’ and ‘thanks’ as well as (presumably) continuing to employ it as a synonym for equitable.

I don’t know where this stuff comes from. A viral idiolect? Something a plastic haircut once said on Love Island? I suppose it’s just as well I’m not a barista.

I’ll tell you what definitely isn’t fair, fair, fair, the cost of this magnificent Needles pyjama set. When did pyjamas start costing £246.00?

I don’t wear pyjamas. But now I know these exist I feel like maybe I should. I mean, if a burglar is going to go to the trouble of breaking in to thieve my enviable selection of vintage horror novels and die-cast Eagle Transporter, the least I can do is look presentable. Although I guess, one glance at my heavily branded jim jams and any thief with a modicum of personal style is going to have those straight off my back anyway.

It’s a quandary to be sure. I was feeling like I’d got this menswear thing pretty much under control, but I’d never considered continuing the flex between the sheets. Ultimately, I just don’t think they’d work for me. With all the filth that goes on in my bed, these would get ruined very quickly. You try juggling a duck and hoisin wrap, a family-sized bag of Onion Rings and a Wall’s Viennetta with two spoons, while watching five episodes of Sewing Bee on a laptop.

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