Wednesday, 29 April 2009

I don't ask cos I don't care

"In a roll, lose control, but we're alright" sang hat-wearing walking sideburn Gaz from UK supergroup "Supergrass" on their debut hit "Alright". It was welcome news to those of us who were concerned about his well being at the time, as anybody who remembers those halcyon days will recall the nation being beside itself with worry about Gaz's plight.

The point I'm spectacularly labouring is the propensity for the British public to enquire about someones well being as an opening gambit, when we clearly couldn't give a shiny shite whether the questionee is in fine fettle or about to shuffle off this mortal coil.

I don't ask people because I don't care. Call it harsh if you will, but in general, the health of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis has little to no effect on my life or work. If somebody I had time for had just returned to work after a bout of the old swine flu, I might enquire "How are you?", if only to determine how big a gap I should maintain between us until the virus dies down.

It's one of those unusual traits of our society that we're all guilty to some extent of using "How are you?" or "Are you alright?" as a conversational pleasantry, but if I was trying to describe an objectionable person to you and said "They're the type of person who if you ask them 'Are you alright?', they say 'No'", you would nod knowingly and thank your lucky stars that you hadn't had to tolerate the cretin in question.

I guess it harks back to the old 'stiff upper lip' days, when our forefathers buried their ills deep down and enjoyed a pint of mild instead, whilst their very being came apart at the seams. Everyone was in the same boat so it did no good moaning about it. "Only pussies say 'no'. Another pint please, landlord".

I might be doing everyone a disservice; maybe it's me who couldn't care less and the rest of the nation does. However, I'm willing to bet a sizable sum that if someone replied "Well no, actually", the asker's internal monologue will shift from pleasant interest to murderous impatience quicker than you can say "Well go to a doctor then, arsehat".

Anyway, enough about me - how are you getting on?

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