Generation X

 Generation X 

First published in Column 8 on the 21^st June 1995

(This may now seem a little out of date in terms of its subject matter; it's worth reading still for the alphabetical fun.) 

Courtesy CasetteVHS96

One of the buzz phrases these days is The X Generation. This relates to that up-and-coming group of
late teen to mid-20-year-olds who are just about to take over the world as it were.

I have a lot more contact, however, with Generation Y. Y do I have to go to bed before you do? Y do I have to eat at the table? Y can’t I drive the car? Y can’t you give me the money?

After enough of this (being the elderly gent that I now am) I tend to become a member of the Z Generation, ie, I begin to nod, and finally drop off to sleep….zzzzzz.

The aforementioned members of Generation Y don’t consider that’s good enough, and shake me awake into instant membership of Generation A – ‘Eh? What did you say?’

When they persist in wanting everything NOW, and ignore my refusals, I find myself evolving into yet another generation: B. B-cause I said so; B-cause your mother doesn’t want you to; B-cause no one else does it.

Generation Y now skips a few and winds up in C: C, you always say that; C, you never listen to me; C, you’re not with it!

When I continue to stonewall, they D-part the scene, and, E-ten up with their own insurmountable arguments, they F-ectually cut off further communication.

I flop down into my favourite G generation chair: G, I’m glad they’re gone; G, thank goodness that’s over; G, I wonder if I really won that round?

Since I know I can never completely scratch generation Y where it Aitches, I slide downhill into distress. In order to get some fresh air, I J-walk across the lawn (and into the kaleyard, which, as all you Scots will know, is the vege garden), feeling as though I’ve been the victim of the K-O generation.

‘L!’ I say, in a moment of extreme provocation. ‘M I the only parent to suffer in this way? Isn’t there an All-Hugs and Cuddles Group for Parents of Y Generation children? Don’t other parents struggle with the following demands: “N I want this, N I want that! N I want to go over to my friend’s place to stay the night – N of course their parents will be there! N I’m Never going to listeN to you agaiN!!!”’

O…dear. What happened to those P-wee charmers, the P-kaboo generation? Is Parent now a P-jorative word, and can parents truly be considered P-vish?

‘QED,’ the Y Generation will reply. ‘Don’t you realise you’re R-chaic, they R-gue, and that we’re the R-chitects of the New World Order? (I always think that has something to do with a supermarket.) R-n’t you R-ware, they continue, of your R-rested development and your R-tificial intelligence?’

When I’ve had enough of this R-gy-bargy, I S-chew further debate and S-cape into the sleep-out at the back of my S-tate.

This intergenerational thing is enough to make you un-T-total, but with great strength of middle-aged mind I stick to a cup of T. Just who do these T-nagers think they are, T-ming over my world with their message-laden T-shirts and their fluoride-riven T-th, making us pre-pensioners T-ter?

U-th’s a stuff will not endure, said Shakespeare’s Feste, and the Earl of Asquith claimed U-th would be an ideal state if it came a little later in life.

Oh, Generation Y, what V-nial sins have we committed against U? Do U D-spise us 4 driving V-dubs?

Generation Y, us venerables have had enough. The time has come for retaliation! Nag me once more and I’ll Double U out the door!