Just seen the class system writ large tonight.
We have a thing called 'Bar Mess'. It's a formal dinner essentially that's an opportunity to let off steam etc. It's usually everything you can all except and a little more. Think public school, black tie, passing the port and smell the privilege. For all that, they are usually great nights. If you take them for what they are and are careful who you sit next to.
Part of the whole thing is appointing a 'master of the revels'. It's stand up, Bar-style. It's normally Cambridge Footlights-esque in its style. But not always. I've seen some of the genuinely funniest people doing it.
Anyway, after doing some stuff myself over the last year or so, I was asked to take the role.
I wasn't sure. But plenty of folk told me to do it. I made people laugh and I did it in a way that broke the mould.
Enough of the vanity exercise, I mention it because tonight there was a 'virtual mess'. Nearly 300 people across over 200 households meeting via Zoom. Families with kids etc. And I had to be 'funny'.
When I first logged on, my heart sank. And that's why I'm typing this now. I grew up middle class. I'm a fucking barrister for christ's sake. For the all of Dad watching Honeyghan v Curry and nearly breaking the TV when he won and drinking 21 pints on his 21st, we grew up in West Park with opera records, camping in Brittany, brown rice and The Female Eunuch on the bookshelf. And yet, in those first online exchanges, even I felt like I was metaphorically kneading my cap. I didn't feel intimidated necessarily. Just completely removed.
The real reason I mention this evening (that I accept for the casual reader is far from interesting) is that, when I was charged with writing a sketch, I was reminded that people would have their kids there. And so it was I wrote a sketch about a barrister doing maths lessons at home in 'lockdown' but not being able to leave the job behind. Niche. Full of in jokes. But it wasn't bad. All I needed was someone to do it with me. Fast forward to today and the eldest agreed.
And this is where it all becomes relevant.
She's 10.
She was, and I'm biased, fucking brilliant. She played it beautifully. And she will never realise it but she is already living privilege. If she decides she wants to read law (she wants to do something in music and is already showing some talent), she will be a country mile ahead of so many great kids with amazing ability. Tonight won't be forgotten. Some of those watching will be the judges of the future. Tonight will be an 'in'. It shouldn't be. But it will be. My challenge is ensuring she doesn't assume that. We're winning that one so far, but that won't stop the benefits she has.
Anyway, slight ramble, but it was such a great example of what we're talking about.