The title is a saying common in the north of England.
It refers to the phenomenon of generationally-wasted family wealth, i.e. the grandparent builds a successful business, their children manage it reasonably well, the grandchildren blow the fortune.
Consider this, then:
Tesco are launching a “no touch” packaging product range of ready-diced meat to tip into a saucepan because….
…..shoppers, particularly younger ones, were “quite scared of touching raw meat”
What does this have to do with clogs and apocryphal stories of indolence and profligacy in the third generation?
Well, perhaps wealth can be considered as not merely financial. A tradition where self-sufficiency, fortitude and stoicism are seen as virtues might be viewed as inherited wealth.
The current crop of squeamish and picky eaters are deserving of extreme and frequent ridicule. It would be almost admirable if they actually had the stubborn discipline and bloody-mindedness to maintain a vegan diet and lifestyle but to resort to “no touch” pre-diced meat is the epitome of pathetic.
At a similar age, their grandparents and great-grandparents were taking the beaches of Normandy, suffering the privations of Ypres, sweeping up the post-Blitz rubble in London and making armaments in factories in the Midlands.
Bill’s Opinion
The title The Greatest Generation has already been taken, unfortunately.
Perhaps this lot will settle for The Coddled Generation?
Better suggestions in the comments, please.
I’m almost tempted to go and stand next to this display in Tescos and sterilise anyone who puts a packet in their basket (because they’ll use a basket, being wee dears who just shop every night for dinner if they’re not going out). I was thinking of using very strong magnets, but I might use a machete as well, given they don’t like touching raw meat….poofters.
No need, really. Most of these folks will choose not to hav children, “for da environment” and the rest will be tricked into thinking they can postpone having children until they’ve made it to the top of their career… and then find it’s too late to find a partner or their eggs are not viable.
Wouldn’t be poofters Victor. They quite like touching meat.