No Quality And No Class

It feels like I have been lying on the floor with people walking up and down my body. And I’m not talking about the professional masseuses either; I’m talking heavyweight wrestling champions… in steel-toed boots. Also, I’m 84.5279% sure that my legs have been dislocated and that I will never be able to use them as effectively ever again.

Have I been doing extreme Judo? Have I been doing kickboxing?

No. I literally spent the entire day with about a quarter of the crew (RIP @ all the Squad who couldn’t come today! Love you all!) at the Science Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum.

There have been many hilarious experiences today though; other than the vicious ordeal of walking up Kensington High Street and then back up to Exhibition Road… But I won’t say anything because that’d just be whining. After all, it was a fantastically hilarious day.

First of all, it seems that I’d picked one of the worst days to visit South Kensington and all the museums thereof. When I got to the train station this morning, I can’t even begin to describe the shock I felt seeing school group after school group… after school group go down the subway to the museums and stuff. There were also LOADS of tourist groups, and lots of foreign kids on trips to London, I would assume. I felt kind of nauseous knowing we were going to have to compete with all those unappreciative children; most of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there.

Even when I was waiting for the Quarter Crew to turn up, at one point, I was entirely surrounded by a bunch of intimidating teenagers from some high school – I had to give them my best ‘back off’ face and hope that they’d get the message.

Anyway, they turned up, we hugged and then we set off. Walking down the subway, I was certainly not impressed by a bunch of moron boys jumping up trying to grab onto the railing on the poorly constructed ‘ceiling’. Even after their leader told them to stop, they continued doing it. The worse thing: they looked about the same age as us. Shaking our heads in disgust at their monkeying antics, and thanking God that I was not born a boy, we walked past them up to the museum.

The Science Museum was fun. It really was. We managed to get into three interactive exhibitions – all of which I had never been to before! – and get lots of funky pictures and such. We literally spent the entire morning in there. Before we left, we went to the shop and had a good browse; there were some very cool looking gizmos in there… An equation clock, books about the mathematics of love, mugs of the periodic table, and (of course) those geeky t-shirts that only dweeby teenage boys wear. Dezza bought a NASA print of Jupiter (right? It was Jupiter right Dezza?) which looked like a LUSH pastel bath bomb, and I mind-lusted over the equation clock. NOT, may I add, that I knew what any of the equations meant, but I think my nerdiness took over there.

We left to go and find some chow, and after an EVENTFUL bus journey (during which we almost got lost) we made it to the highstreet. Dezza and I opted for M&S (I bought a bag of Double Chocolate cookies… mmmm… and she bought some potato and egg salad thing and some fruit) and though Hazza and Kazza tried to find a Subway, we quickly realised (a search for ‘Subway’ on Kazza’s phone led her to two Nando’s and the actual Underground station) that it was non-existent on the road, so they settled for Maccy Dees instead. (That’s McDonalds for all you who are unaware of this colloquial reference…)

We must have sat in there for about an hour and a half and just talked. About everything. We equated skin tones to the Nando’s heat scale (Plain, Lemon and Herb/Mango and Lime, Medium, Hot, Extra Hot), we ranted about America and their third amendment (which, correct me if I’m wrong Americans, but is the right to own arms?). We mostly just ranted about America. We also didn’t understand why some Americans get offended when you mistake them for Canadians. (It’s just like, what is there to be offended about? Canada in general is just a much nicer country than America! Canadians (other than Justin Bieber) are just so polite! Why would you be offended?!)

Anyway, on heading back, we decided that there was no point in us going back to the Science Museum, just to go to the Launch Pad (sad times! By the way, if you don’t know what I’m talking about then WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! VISIT THIS MUSEUM!!!) so we just decided that the best thing to do would be to head to the V&A.

In which we took even MORE pictures and Dezza and I just mocked everything. Hazza wasn’t very impressed with us, because she said we should take the art more seriously… But Dezza and I didn’t understand most of the conceptual art! It looked fantastic and everything, but it was far easier to make jokes and it was quite difficult to take some of it seriously. I got some top notch shots of statues (and of course, myself standing beside/in front of them pulling the same pose…) and also some candid photos.

NOW this is where the title ties in. We went into a section called Europe (I think it was Europe) and there was a display of ceramics. One of the small displays was two small plates but one was a Chinese plate and one was British. The whole point was that we (the visitors) had to guess using the clues on the display, which plate was which, as they weren’t labelled. The clues said this – I’m just paraphrasing:

  • The British plate has a more uneven surface, there are cracks and imperfections, and the white background has a hint of pink.
  • The Chinese plate is very smooth, is made of thin porcelain, is very refined and the white background is tastefully infused with blue.

Dezza and I looked at each other, then the plates and we both agreed which one we thought was the Chinese/British plate. So we lifted up the flap and discovered that we were correct, and I said to her in the most chavvy accent possible (I don’t know what came over me), “It’s obvious that that one is the Chinese one. I mean look at the British one. It doesn’t scream ‘quality’ or ‘class’. And why? Because it’s British.”

But it sounded a bit more like, “Iss obvious vat VAT one is the Chinese one. I mean, LOOK aht the Bri-ish one. Ih do’n’t scream ‘qualih-y’ or ‘class’. And why? ‘Cuz iss Bri-ish.”

Needless to say, we both found it hilarious. Despite our British citizenship, neither of us feel a particularly patriotism towards this country, so we just mocked everything from then one. We passed a tapestry which was actually very pretty. She said to me (keeping with the chavvy accent), “That ain’t British.”

I said, “Dya know why? Cuz it screams ‘quality’ and ‘class’.”

And that was it. We passed a wicker-framed chair which was falling to pieces. I looked at her and said, “That’s British.” She couldn’t even respond. We read the information stand and it said ‘Made in England’ which I dutifully pointed out to her.

And so it continued. Every time one of us started the sentence with “That is/ain’t British” the other immediately knew what to finish it with.

Hazaa was NOT impressed with us, so we took to whispering it to each other. But it was our joke for the rest of the trip.

My twinnie brother rang me while we were there too, so I had to calmly explain to him at Kazza’s amusement that I couldn’t actually have the discussion we intended to, because I was at the V&A! (Which he completely did NOT understand or sympathise with and still tried to cajole me into a DMC. I was insistent that I would ring later… which I still haven’t, but I will at some point!)

Unfortunately, I didn’t go to the two exhibitions that I really wanted to see – the shoe exhibition and the Alexander McQueen one – but I did manage to get a sneak peek because the back door has been left open! It looked so plush! And we will be going back in August and spending an entire day there though… Can’t wait!

But me and Dezza did mock everything. We saw some painted picture and I told her in the same chavvy voice which we had been using since the “Porcelain Plates” incident, “I could EASILY paint like that mate. I swear down, just get me some watercolours and I could TEAR DAT PAINTING DOWN.”

She agreed bemusedly, joining in, “Yes, same RiRi, like, but you know what yeah. If you did that, they wouldn’t even put it up. Even though your painting would be better, they’d be like, nah, we can’t; cuz it would scream quality and class… and that ain’t British.”

When we finally left (not by choice… we were being kicked out because the museum was closing!) after looking at these HUMUNGOUS marble carvings – no but like, seriously, how is that even possible to make? – I was absolutely knackered. I only just about managed to make it on the train, and then there were delays and everything and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I suppose the only thing that made my journey slightly better was that on the train I heard a little boy telling his mother that he wanted to cut his hair like Michael Jackson’s. I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I assumed that she told him that Michael Jackson’s hair was feminine (because it was quite long), but he told her indignantly, “It’s not girly. Michael Jackson is a boy, so his hair is boy-y.”

I couldn’t stop a little smile. Even though my feet killed. They still do.

As soon as I got in, I put the bag of cookies in the fridge (TIP: M&S Double Chocolate cookies taste fantastic when you put them in the fridge) went upstairs, stripped down and then just napped.

It was one of the most beautiful naps I have ever experienced.

I only woke up about half an hour ago, and I got home around 6:30. I don’t even know how I’m going to make it out of the house for tomorrow, because it’s going to be another full-on day.

Anyways. I don’t know if this counts as a review of those museums, but here it is.

So I’m signing off, going to ensure the plans for tomorrow and Wednesday are solid and THEN, I am going to sleep.

There is no way I’m going to last much longer if I don’t. Goodnight my lovely subjects,

Queen Rianna


14 thoughts on “No Quality And No Class

  1. also yes the NASA print was of jupiter – though in the end i actually bought three!! (pastel jupiter, solar waves and one of the earth)


  2. love this. And I would be HONORED to be confused for a Canadian. And I don’t even know what the 3rd amendment is–how shameful is that? I feel like the 2nd might be the one about guns… You can tell I’m American because I’m ignorant πŸ˜‰


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