There is no shortage of railings or posh houses in Kensington. It’s a nice area of London, but it is blighted by one terrible problem: it has an awful infestation of privileged self-important rich people.
They walk around like mobile billboards: huge branded sunglasses, handbags or cases with enormous branded labels stuck on them, if it’s cold they’ll wear their scarves and “accidentally” leave the manufacturer’s tag sticking out, the women have golden growths stuck around their necks and fingers, while the men have chunky watches the size of sundials stuck to their wrists. Each one thinks that they own the whole pavement and that they have the right to drive and park their ludicrously oversized car wherever it suits them.
Many of them have a speech impediment: before they can pay for anything like coffee or a sandwich, they have the ritual of asking “Do you take Amex?”. The stock answer to that question should be “No, only pillocks try to pay with Amex”. It’s almost worth opening a shop just to wind them up.
Anyway, there ARE some nice people in Kensington and Chelsea, and we do have to sympathise with them for having to live among the rest of the local population. We just have to take a little comfort from knowing how much it winds up the rushed rich people when we walk slowly in front of them, accidentally drop rubbish into the back of their open-top sportscars, and hang our dogs from their front railings.