Back in July, this blog offered thumbs up to a book which gained quite a lot of attention last year - Owen Jones's Chavs: The Demonization of the Working Class. Jones reported on what seems to have become an increasingly mainstream, widespread and unchallenged sense of middle-class contempt for British working-class people. His account for how this state of affairs came about is persuasive, taking in the neutering of the trades unions, the dismantling of British industrial centres and the communities around them, and the successful propagandising about a culture of aspiration and social mobility.
Some reviews of the book, though, question whether Jones's analysis is sufficiently nuanced. In an otherwise positive critique, Lynsey Hanley felt that Jones fails to acknowledge splits within a social class that he prefers to treat "as a single political bloc". These splits are exemplified, argues Hanley, by her observation that "a great deal of chav-bashing goes on within working-class neighbourhoods, partly because of the age-old divide between those who aim for 'respectability' and those who disdain it". She also points out that "inverse snobbery can also be expressed towards those perceived to be 'stuck-up'".
Ask a broad selection of people what they understand the word 'chav' to mean. It seems likely that you will get a few different answers. Some respondents may opt for something close to Wikipedia's definition, which is quite a narrow one. Here, the word refers specifically to a certain stereotype of "teenagers and young adults from an underclass background" dressed entirely in sportswear and committing petty crimes. But Owen Jones's book opens with his account of an incident that motivated him to write it and which suggests the term can have rather wider coverage. He was at a dinner party, surrounded by a group middle-class friends whose liberal sensibilities are taken as a given. One of the group attempted a joke: "It's sad that Woolworth's is closing. Where will all the chavs buy their Christmas presents?" Whatever the intention, Jones took this to mean that all of Woolworth's regular customers were being labelled as chavs. He therefore felt offended by what he perceived to be a put-down of working class people in general and by the fact that his companions, not all of whom were white or heterosexual, seem tacitly to accept this particular expression of prejudice. We can't read the minds of Jones's fellow diners that night, but it seems feasible that many of us could find friends or colleagues who use the term 'chav' to mean any person displaying what they perceive to be simply working-class tastes, values or behaviours.
There is, then, a lack of consensus about what this ugly little word means. Nowhere is this semantic haziness more obvious than in a TV advert which was (possibly?) recently aired and then (maybe?) swiftly banned:
In this ad, a Cheltenham race day is cleansed of "chavs" by a hit man's tranquilliser darts. So who gets shot? Interestingly, none of the victims is wearing a shell suit, a fake Burberry baseball cap or any other item associated with the fearsome and feral youths described by the Wikipedia entry for chavs. The first person shot wears an unremarkable jacket and shirt. What makes him a chav? Is it that he is drinking lager? Whatever his offence, he is described as a "bit of a tool" before he is taken down. Next to be dispatched are two loudly dressed women. They are described as "vajazzlers", a reference to a term for a form of adornment of the female pubic area which was apparently brought to public notice by one Amy Childs, a star of the awful dramality show The Only Way is Essex. Interestingly, given that she has cropped up in this discussion of class, Ms. Childs was educated at an independent school, where she was appointed Head Girl.
So who else gets shot by the sinister chap employed by betting firm Paddy Power? Well, the dart misses one intended target, a man in a polo shirt. Presumably it's for his gold chain that he deserves to be removed from the race course. Then the next to get the treatment is a rowdy young woman vulgar enough to show her almost bare backside from the grandstand. Then it's the turn of a fellow in an unremarkable dark quilted jacket.
It's a mixed bag. Some of the people shot seem to be behaving a little obnoxiously and some are dressed a little loudly. It's not hard to imagine some elements of the crowd at an English race course preferring not to have to look at them. But the other folk who get tranquillised just seem to be fairly unostentatious punters whose offence is to be working class - or to be perceived as such.
Imagine using this analysis as the basis of a complaint about the advertisement. Imagine presenting that complaint to the ad's creators, or simply to anyone who enjoyed it. This is only a guess, but would the most likely outcome be an accusation of 'not getting the joke' or of having 'no sense of humour' or perhaps being a member of the 'PC brigade'? Is it hard to imagine someone defending this ad as being just a bit of banter?
The thing is, there's a pretty good chance that the joke here is more clever than it may appear to anyone who bristles with indignation on seeing it. Which is not to say that it's actually funny. But there may be a sly kind of cleverness at work here. Many readers will not equate the online betting services of the Irish bookmaker's firm with the refined tastes of the urbane middle classes. So perhaps the writer of this ad is poking fun at Paddy Power's own customers. If so, are Paddy's punters an unwitting patsy in this gag? Or are they invited to laugh at themselves with knowing self-deprecation? It's hard to tell, but either explanation seems more likely than this being an attempt genuinely to position Paddy Power as a premium brand for a discerning and affluent clientèle.
Nothing easily discovered in the public domain explains why this advertisement failed to get a sustained showing on TV. A brief article in Ireland's Independent states that the ad "didn't even have chance to be complained about, never making it past the regulators". Presumably this means the ASA, but notice of any ban is not obvious on the agency's website. Was it ever actually banned? The bookmaker's own YouTube channel offers a fairly garbled version of events: "Shockingly, our last TV Ad has been banned after just four days on TV. That's some kind of record, even for us. This commercial, dubbed 'Chavs', didn't even pass the powers that be so it will never be seen on TV." It was on TV for four days or it will never be seen on TV? Which is it, Paddy? Or are the YouTube clip (so far unmolested by any censor) and your comments just part of a stunt that nods knowingly at your firm's history of having its advertising censured?
Either way, should an advertisement like this ever be banned? Probably not. After all, it would be good to believe that nobody is stupid enough to take seriously the notion that chavs/ordinary working class folk (take your pick) should be hunted down for having the effrontery to enjoy a day at the races.
That said, some fairly predictable enthusiasm for the idea can be found in the comments section of the dear old Daily Mail's short piece about the ad. "Splendid idea," remarks one Mail reader. "But why stop at just chavs? I'd include football lager louts, benefit scroungers, anyone wearing a shell-suit and couples who wear matching jumpers or coats..!!" Another wag weighs to exclain "What a magnificent idea, rid us of the Chavs and Louts - all for shooting em all and will make for a much better world." It's worth pointing out, though, that the second comment was offered by someone using the name "Race Lover Upper Middle Class". That MUST be a joke, right? Someone lampooning other commenters' apparent blood lust? Here we are again. Who's joking and who's not? Who gets the jokes and who doesn't? Ah, the tricksy minefield of British class consciousness, snobberies, ironic stylings and humour.
Though Paddy Power's ad probably doesn't warrant a ban, it's nevertheless not a bad thing that it isn't gracing our TV screens. The Daily Mail comments box is proof that some people would take it as part of an acceptable further normalisation of the spiteful class hatred against which Owen Jones rails. Apart from that, it's another dubious artefact not likely to contribute to any slowing down of the steady coarsening of public debate and tastes.
Still, if you like this kind of thing, you'll be pleased to know that by 'liking' the Paddy Power Facebook page you can play the "Cheltenham chav-spotting game" in which you're invited to sort out slices of "orange plebeian" from people who are "more civilised". Have fun. Knock yourself out while, depending on your take on all this, you either enjoy a harmless pastime or engage in a spot of class hatred.
Bloody hell. English society is complicated. Especially when an Irish bookmaker sticks his oar in.
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