Every generation thinks it invented sex, drugs and moral outrage but it’s all pure poppycock.
Mr Noel Coward bemoans the slacker generation in one of his witty ditties
What’s going to happen to the children
When there aren’t any more grown-ups?
It’s bizarre when grandmamma, without getting out of breath
Starts to jive at eighty-five and frightens the little ones to death.
The police had to send a squad car
When daddy got fried on vodka
And tied a tweed coat round mummy’s throat
In several sailor’s knots.
Hushabye, hushabye, hushabye my darlings,
Try not to fret and wet your cots.
One day you’ll clench your tiny fists
And murder your psychiatrists.
What’s, what’s, what’s going to happen to the tots?
bricameron says
The thing is. Is that everything happens once.
Kaisfatdad says
Cole Porter satirising the moral panic of his time.
Junglejim says
Just to say that’s Dizzy Gillespie gazing up at our Ella – notva bad line up!