It’s no longer “Who Sloanes Wins” in Chelsea; welcome to the 2020s in SW3 – and the arrival of an age of vulgarity and coarseness
Chelsea used to be the land of Peter York’s Sloane Rangers, girls in pearls and the at-that-time soon to be Princess Diana getting merry in ‘The Ad Cod.’
As the 1980s faded and more recently the 2010s brought the gaucheness of the Made in Chelsea set (in spite of the fact most of them lived in Fulham) along with the money-parking, “no lights on, nobody’s home” UHNW’s (‘Ultra High Net Worth’s’ to the unaware), the once civilised Royal Borough – a place once the haunt of the likes of Whistler and Wilde – has descended into an abyss.
On New Year’s Day in a restaurant near Sloane Square, two supposedly local ‘women’ (most definitely not ‘ladies’) were heard loudly recounting their respective Christmas and New Year’s Eve experiences. The following numbered amongst their most definitely banal banter:
“I drink tequila like water… We had a party at The Standard and I then slept with my best friend’s boyfriend’s brother… I’m glad I did as his parents live in Monaco… He paid for a suite. And more tequila.”
“After f**king, we watched a documentary on Satanists in America… And then we ended up having sex again.”
“Do you have a trashy female I can bring tomorrow? I need one for my best friend’s boyfriend’s brother… The one I slept with wants another to join in with us.”
“Whenever I got f**ked up, as I did with my best friend’s brother, I eat fifty Chicken McNuggets.”
“I love a good Italian [restaurant] but you have to check their Insta first. No point going without doing that… But actually, you know what, I prefer Chicken McNuggets.”
“I kind of did a pre-party on the day before New Year’s Eve… I liked that we were going in a private room at Gold in Notting, but then we all went to McDonald’s in Kensington High Street… Well, we were really f**ked up.”
“We had a dinner at Lucky Cat on New Year’s Eve. It was not a ‘party, party’ … But then we bounced, bounced… So we bounced… Oh my God, I did not know what the f**k we were doing but we were doing it, so we bounced to Lulu’s… Empty, empty – just like Halloween, naff… So we bounced to Annabel’s… It was bangin’.”
“I took drugs last night. Do you think that might be why my nose might be sore?”
We are sure readers will agree that these potty mouthed specimens need only one thing: No more Chicken McNuggets and instead a bar of soap in each of their mouths.
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Send them Down Under if they are lookers!!!!!!!!! I’d share a Castlemaine or twenty with them!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bangin’!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ghastly women. Which countries were they from?
Slags.