Doubtless your streets teem with miscreants and errant strollers. The windows of your cottages must be festooned with mock lace. Your doors surely sag on their hinges. Your tiny gardens must be rank with common gillyflowers and copied statues. Your kitchens reek of vile edibles — turnips, potatoes, lovage… One shudders.
Here is your project:
Fabricate a budget designed to rid our Sceptered Isle of the likes of yourselves.
Postulate the razing of your hovels to be followed by the erection of mansions.
Postulate exclusive shops patronized by graceful gentlefolk. Greco-Roman nymphettes in white marble peopling fountains with modest gushing. Nary a lady in public view not attired in exquisite headwear.
Valet parking universal, public transport banished.
Refined eateries serving delicacies able to be savored properly only by genteel palates.
Gothic altars restrainedly hymned by cosseted congregants — the few, the winsome, the titled.
Boulevards named for peers and Thatcherites.
Take the aforementioned amenities into account, and more if possible, in the provisioning of funds to your hypothetical exchequer for civilizing improvements on behalf of the beleaguered privileged class.
Assume the hoi polloi displaced by the upgrade are ferried to America, there to be absorbed into the excellent prison system. (Exclude that cost from your budget, it will be borne by charities.)
(Social Math — UK. Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)