a term dating back some decades—


(aka ‘yob’) is a contemptuous throwaway term meaning to the effect of ‘ill mannered buffoon, lout, scumbag, oaf, boor etc etc‘ … but here, let the Mac onboard dictionary explain it—

Screen Shot 2015-04-16 at 8.43.57

—but the Mac sanitises it. A lot.

For myself there are some qualifications I hold in high regard, and likewise some traditions. But not, under any circumstances* stuff like the below (press on …).


I know that I could never be good enough to be a top racing driver. Hell, I congratulate myself every time I negotiate the Lorneville roundabout and survive a trip into Invercargill (getting back unscathed on Southland’s road is a major in itself). But racing? No way~! Hence I should hold successful racers in due respect. But does some twat’s ability to hold a high-speed car on the road better than anyone else truly deserve unqualified respect?

In itself: to a degree, yes. Certainly I couldn’t do it. But does such respect entitle said jerk to any other form of respect?

“By their deeds,” the Sage breathes boozily over my shoulder, “shall ye know them. Hic.”

So how about this modern sporting hero, apparently typical of the breed—

Screen Shot 2015-04-16 at 8.35.49—?


is that in the real days of motor racing gentlemen took part (you know: guys with class) and the winner, still sitting in his cockpit and looking bemused whilst bashfully making ‘Awe, shucks’ noises, would be presented with a glass of champagne to be gratefully sipped. To be appreciated, as no other glass of champagne ever could be.

Predictably it went downhill from there.

The idea caught on and spread to the point now where every talented little poop winning anything is required by custom to rark-up the bottle and spray the cameraman, the nearest officials, and anyone else within reach. Required, I said, by custom and usage—anyone merely taking a modest sip these days would be hooted out of the arena by a dumbfounded public.

Gentlemen, it seems, are extinct. Yobs are in. Get used to it … and you can have my share.

It took the vintner and buddies years of TLC to produce that bottle (Mumms?) and it deserves better treatment than to be used as a weapon against innocent damsels by a mere yob. I say it again:




*  Unless she’s somehow caught fire—but spontaneous human combustion aside it’s hardly likely.



6 thoughts on “MODERN YOBBO

    1. Me neither.

      I’m a cranky old outdated beyond use by dated poop with antiquated notions of fair play, chivalry, and sportsmanship. In naval terms: she should have kicked him in the cods.

    1. Well said, Curt~!

      Me too … (so long as it doesn’t evolve into setting fire to the hostess or the grandstands, or any other boyish prank in the heat and jubilation of the moment).

      Someone—anyone—should have clopped him in the chops (and been lynched by irate fans, yeah, right …) but this is role-modelling at its modern best, no?

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