When FlashMarsh returned home from public school, the first thing he did was to take off his uniform and to change into a getup that better reflected his personality. First he took off the blazer that was getting too small for him and threw it onto the ground, then he did away with the tie that seemed to wrap itself around his neck like a poisonous snake. Once he had finished taking off the uniform, he went over to his wardrobe, a piece of Victorian furniture that was older than his great-grandfather, and put on the trousers half of a tracksuit (grey, with a pair of white stripes running down each side) and a striped shirt. Over that he put on a knockoff Burberry hoodie and, after taking the hood off his head, he finished his outfit with a cap with a similar checked pattern. He would have liked to take some of his mother's jewellery to use as bling, but she would surely have noticed it if her jewellery had been moved by a millimetre.

His parents were not home. His father was still at his job at his bank, while his mother was out at a society event with her society friends, a group of very posh and important ladies, one of which was the cousin to the Duke of Featherstonehaugh (pronounced Fanshaw). All he had to do to exit the house was to escape the notice of the maid. The maid was FlashMarsh's former nanny. She had been saved from a life of chavdom at the age of seventeen by the goodwill of the Marshes, fifteen years ago, when they had appointed her as the nanny to their newborn son. Once FlashMarsh was old enough to be sent to school, she was kept as a maid. Somewhere during her tenure, however, she began to cultivate a disdain for chavs despite originally being one herself, so FlashMarsh could not, to his sorrow, find in her a confidante about his wish to be a chav. He was to meet his friends in ten minutes in the parking lot of a Tesco. He exited his room, descended the stairs, and went out of the house through a back door, all, thankfully, without attracting the attention of the maid.

neezles my dad is a lawyer and there is no tesco in miles

What was poshness? It was that ineffable quality granted to Victoria Beckham, but not her bandmates, that would allow her to wed a highly important footballer and become one of the most well-known and important celebrities in the Great Britain. While her former friends languished in the half-light of their former fame, trying hardly but fruitlessly to bring it back in order that it may shine on them once more, she moved through the highest echelons of British society, moving like a spirit through the pages of the Daily Mail, her essence and her poshness making its way to the commoner through the ink that flaked onto his fingers as he leafed through the publication, or through ingestion, the ink having ended up on the fish and chips that were wrapped in the newspaper. All because she was posh and they were not.