Socialist principles were once my foundation stones of my teenage idealism. Now I am a parent of teenagers facing the career choices - now is the time for the beast to be revealed, the inner Tory will out.
And to my former ideals of the far fields of level playing, the fondest for survival of the fittest and the natural order of the modern world. To this I say thrice nay and pots and ism. This is a matter that blood is thicker than water and this is my pension plan, I want a payback, when my bed-wetting days return and the commode is my new throne. I want a son or daughter running about when I am three score and something large, wondering if the old fella remembers a name or two and congratulating me on my lack of dribbling.
For this "start them young" ladder-climbing viz-a-viz XXL nappy changing equation - I would overcome teenage academic ambivalence by having words in the ears of the social network called contacts in middling management.
My boy will have a paper round and my taxes will have to compensate for guilt lapses.
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