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AGE PREJUDICE

GEORGE AGED 1 Year Old Blog Age Prejudice

1st AUGUST 2017

 

1 YEAR OLD GEORGE'S BLOG

 

HE FEELS HE'S SUFFERING FROM AGE PREJUDICE

 

 

Hi George here. Welcome to my world. Won’t you come on in?

 

Being the youngest in the family is supposed to be the best thing in the world ever. Everyone loves the little one and finds him/her so cute.

 

I have to say I do enjoy the position and boy o-boy do I take advantage of it. You have to don’t you? Grandad taught me that. He said make the most of it because there’ll be loads of times in life when you will be s*** upon.

 

My position is slightly confusing though. I am the youngest in one half of the family and not in the other half. This guy Finley came and p***** on my parade. Although a little bird tells me he is about to lose his crown. But where does that leave me? In an even worse position.

 

He’s my cousin and I love him to bits and I don’t blame him at all. Infact he’s taken some of the pressure off me. It’s very draining trying to be cute all the time with paparazzi grandparents taking photographs all the time and expecting you to perform and be all loving. And all those kisses…Yuk.

 

Me and him are huge mates, and I think will always be because we are growing up together.

I suppose our relationship may come under pressure if he ends up supporting Lincoln FC and that’s highly likely because he lives at Lincoln. But we’ll deal with that little conundrum when it happens. Meanwhile he is brilliant because he’s the youngest.

 

But this week in the bit of the family where I still hold the title of being youngest member I have suffered appalling prejudices for being the youngest.

 

It has been so bad I have tried endlessly to grab someone’s phone to ring Childline or the NSPCC. But I think all adults in the family are conscious of their wrong doings and are particularly protective of their phones. Not only that, as my speech is hardly fluent yet, how do I get the message across the phone?

 

The prejudices forced upon me are etched in my brain but how do I convert that into speak.

Anyway it all started last Wednesday. Mamma, who I thought was my biggest ally, took Sister Freya to Build-A-Bear Workshop in Victoria Centre, Nottingham, and not me, Because I was too young.

 

Then to compound the problem she took Cousin Rory and Cousin Ewan there too. She paid for a Troll for each of the three and Freya made a Poppy Troll bear. But nothing for me. She said the Build-A-Bear Workshop said they were not suitable for the under 3 year olds. You can’t say that. It is against the law and my human rights to be so blatantly age prejudiced.

 

I don’t necessarily believe them. You choose a heart and get a birth certificate so I think that is where Finley’s brother or sister is coming from and he is younger than me, they are not barring him.

 

Anyway why stop the under 3s having them? What’s going to happen? Will the world come to an end and stop turning? I don’t think so. Will I get scared? It’ll take more than that to scare me, I can tell you. Am I going to put it in my mouth and choke on it? Have you seen these Build-A-Bear Workshop Trolls they are 40cms long if they are a cm. You’d need the mouth of a 20 foot crocodile to get that in. Do they have sexual connotations? Have you seen a Troll they are about as sexually attractive as the back end of a dustcart.

 

No, I tell you people out there the only reason the under 3s cannot have a Build-A-Bear Workshop Troll is because the adults cannot ‘bear’ to see them have even more fun.

Ok, Mamma, to ease her conscience, did buy me a present. A present? A pair of dungarees.

Grandad, is the world’s greatest expert on presents, especially interpreting presents people buy for you. He has written a best selling book about the subject. (I don’t think its bestselling yet but it will be when he finds a publisher.)

 

He says you should never have clothes for presents or anything that your parents have to buy you routinely for everyday living like food, nappies, Calpol and very definitely not clothes. Dungarees are clothes, so not a present. And to compound the insult they had a hole in them and had to go back to John Lewis, anyway.

 

I was still smarting from this when we had a day out with Fairy Godmother Emma and Prince Charming Daniel. They are always game for a laugh and buy the most amazing presents ever.

We went to The Lost City Adventure Golf, based in Nottingham’s Cornerhouse, with two separate 18 hole, rainforest themed, indoor adventure golf courses - Sacred Skull Pass and Temple Trail! As everyone knows, golf comes as second nature to me. No one had to show me how to hold a golf club it came as natural. I always get a hole in one and I know instinctively what a birdie is. Golf was my main motive for learning to walk, why else would you bother.

I was so looking forward to a round of golf. But then it hit me like driving into a wall at 100mph. They said I could not play as I was too young.

 

How very dare they? The adults were too scared I was going to be showing them up with my amazing skills.

 

The third thing I’m having them for and will present in evidence at the European Court of Human Rights when I sue for age prejudice is the fact that there is a family photo displayed at my house and Mamma’s house and everyone on Mum’s side of the family is on it except me.

 

Why?

 

How would you feel if your family just had one family photo on display and it included everyone and Shaun the Sheep but not you?

 

I’ll tell you, guttered, because I do.

 

I keep pointing at Mamma on it. They misinterpret me, though and think I am pointing her out lovingly, but I’m not I’m pointing the finger at her. She’s the one who’s supposed to be looking out for me. Some hope.

 

And Mum’s answer: “That was before you were born.”

 

What a load of b*******.

 

I know… yet again, I was too young.

 

Age should not come into it. It should not be a limiting factor. You should not be stopped doing anything because you are too young. Life is too short. I should be allowed to do everything everyone else is allowed to do.

 

I have made a list and there are three hundred million and sixty seven thousand four hundred and sixty three things we the under fives are barred from doing because of age.

 

Here are the Top 10

:

1              Make a Troll at the Build-A-Bear Workshop

2              Eat steak and chips

3              Watch Star Wars (any of the films)

4              Wreck my sister’s bedroom

5              Go into Newark of a night and do a pub crawl without being accompanied by an adult

6              Have my own smart phone               , tablet or TV remote control

7              Bite into the leather settee arm

8              Sit in a real car seat instead of a child’s

9              Drive a car, commercial vehicle, bus, train or tram

10           Have a feeding bottle any more

11           (Ok I never said I could count ) Wake up whenever I want

12           Pooh and wee when my nappy is being changed

13           Bite electric cables

 

I rest my case.

 

That means I’m done on this subject

 

As Cousin Ewan says, “Bye, Bye” – George.

 

 

 

 

When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.

 

Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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