By Joe Davies
Ah yes, the Range Rover wielding housewives of our glorious British countryside sporting only the finest of Mulberry handbag. Little do they work yet boredom is alleviated through extensive coffee morning nattering. Swiss water de caff conversation of a frothy nature, focused on the third skiing holiday of the year, of how consumption of hot chocolate on the continent is both an aesthetic experience and a warming après ski. Back at their exclusive stone built homes, a bowl full of car keys is set out so as to mitigate further boredom by appropriating the services of other peoples husbands, awkward Prosecco fuelled sex ensues with greying executives battling erectile dysfunction and tummy trouble.
Back around for the school run Millie, Saskia and Oliver are doing well in their most formative years in their fitting to the mould of generic affluence afforded to them by their image conscious parents taking on aspirations to be model’s, PR consultants or indeed any career that brings high levels of glamour without the burden of anything trivial such as moral integrity. Failing this the girls can become Louis Vuitton housewives and Oliver can get in at the firm whilst the trust fund matures post gap year. Just as well that the chosen mode of transport for the contemporary cougar is an SUV, with two chassis and a V8 they barely notice the fluffy lefty types as they are flattened whilst walking their little Barnaby’s to school, rendering the ontology of the cougar unchallenged.