upper classes? Upper in what? In the make-and-grab faculties, that's all.
"To hell with their 'upper.' If a working man thinks he'll be in the running, and demand say half of what these gentry get, then he's the assassin of his trade and country. It's his business to grovel before these 'upper' gents, is it?
"No, mates, it's his business to rise up and give 'em a good kick in the seats of their pants, to remind them of their bed-rock bottoms. You'd think, to hear all the fairy tales they let off, that their pants didn't have such a region as seats. Like the blooming little angels, all fluttery tops and no bottoms. Don't you be sucked in any more, mates. Look at 'em, and you'll see they've got good, heavy-weight sit-upons, and big, deep trouser-pockets next door. That's them. Up-end 'em for once, and look at 'em upside down. Greedy fat-arses, mates, if you'll pardon the vulgarity for once. Greedy fat-arses.
"And that's what we've got to knuckle under to, is it? They're the upper classes? Them and a few derelict lords and cuttle-fish capitalists. Upper classes? I'm damned if I see much upper about it, mates. Drop 'em in the sea and they'll float butt-end uppermost, you see if they don't. For that's where they keep their fat, like the camel his hump. Upper classes!
"But I wish them no special harm. A bit of a kick in the rear, to remind them that they've got a rear, a largely kickable rear. And then, let them pick themselves up and mingle with the rest. Give them a living wage, like any other working man. But it's hell on earth to see them floating their fat bottoms through the upper regions, and just stooping low enough to lick the cream off things, as it were, and to squeal if a working man asks for more than a gill of the skilly.
"Work? What is one man's job more than another. Your Andrew Carnegies and your Rothschilds may be very smart at their jobs. All right—give em the maximum wage. Give 'em a pound a day. They won't starve on it. And what do they want with more? A job is nothing but a job, when all's said and done. And if Mr Hebrew Rothschild is smart on the finance job, so am I a smart sheep-shearer, hold my own with any man. And what's the odds? Wherein is Mr Hebrew, or Lord Benjamin Israelite
