‘Untidy people are not nice to know’
You don’t have to be a genius to spot them. The men of the species are often uncombed; their ties never knotted squarely beneath their collars. The women of the species always manage to smear lipstick on their faces as well as their lips; in one hand they carry handbags which are stuffed full of accumulated rubbish; with the other, they drag a horde of neglected children behind them. With a sort of happy unconcern, both the male and female species litter railway sations, streets, parks,etc.with sweet wrappings, banana-skins, egg-shells and cast-off shoes. Who are they? That great untidy band of people that make up about three-quarters of the human race. An unending trail of rubbish pursues them wherever they go.
It is most unwise to call on them at their homes-particularly if they aren’t expecting you. You are liable to find socks behind the refrigerator, marbles in the jam and egg-encrusted crockery. Newspapers litter the floor; ashtrays overflow; withered flowers go on withering in stale water. Writing-desks have become dumping grounds for piles of assorted, indescribable junk. And as for the bedrooms, well, it’s best not to say. Avoid looking in their cars, too, because you are likely to find last year’s lolly sticks, chewing-gum clingling to the carpets and a note saying ‘Running In’ on the rear window of a ten-year-old vehicle.
Yes, but what are they really like? Definitely not nice to know. They are invariably dirty, scruffy, forgetful impatient, slovenly slothful, unpunctual, inconsiderate, rude, irritable and (if they’re driving a car) positively dangerous. Untidiness and these delightful qualities always seem to go together, or shall we say that untidiness breeds these qualities. It’s hardly surprising. If you are getting dressed and can only find one sock, you can only end up being irritable and scruffy. If after a visit to a lovely beauty spot you think that other people will enjoy the sight of your orange peel, you can only be inconsiderate and slovenly. If you can’t find an important letter because you stuck it between the pages of a book and them returned the book to the library, you can only be forgeful. If you live in perpetual, self-imposed squalor, you must be slothful-otherwise you’d do something about it.
