why old people don't suck

Right! Enough is enough!
No more sesame seed bars for you!

Since moving to St-Gilles I've come into contact with a species endemic to this part of Brussels. The area I lived in before moving here was a bit like a starched version of Neukoelln in Berlin. I had grown to like the Turks as an ethnicity - they're a quiet, conservative lot (unless you're party to a bit of Kurdish flag-waving that is). The area where I lived was mostly inhabited by older, middle-class Turks more interested in waxing their white BMWs and moving further up the social ladder than partying or having more kids.

The area where I'm now living is kind of like a grubbier, grittier version of Prenzl'Berg

The species I discovered is a species I thought I'd get along with quite well. We share similar values after all, but it seems the gulf of understanding is too wide. They're conscientious couples in their mid to late twenties (or early thirties) and I found the small-mindedness some of them display not only surprising but disturbing.

Here's how to spot one. Caveat - blanket statements ahoy!

1. The women wear garishly coloured clothes in various outlandish shades of orange and fucshia. To say these pants are baggy is an understatement. They're baggier than the pants I used to wear in the 90s when everyone thought camping in your own trousers was cool. Not just that - the crotch area itself is so baggy it looks like they just shat themselves or someone secretly slid a pétanque bowl when they were comparing the length of panpipes at Oxfam.
2. They're not so much francophones as anti-English. They could speak English if you're struggling but they won't. You see, English is the language of the U.S.-dominated hegemonisation (actually fuck that... hegemoniZation) of the world. They also speak South American Spanish (they've been to Peru and Ecuador). All their friends are francophones too. They only listen to music from the francophonie and are inordinately pround of their francité. Their MySpace/Facebook profile is exclusively in French and they've only got French-speaking friends. They're, ironically, as linguistically conservative as a small-town Texan.
3. They party. Often. Until 5 AM. They don't give a shit about the neighbours cuz they're young, wild, haven't got a job and since they're ethically superior to a pack of sedulously recycling whales, they know that all shall be forgiven because they're saving our world. And you're not. Scum.
4. They buy bio (organic). But only when you're looking.
5. They procreate. This is the worst bit. They procreate and then let their kids run completely amok. Their blond, bellicose kids will stand behind them in small supermarkets, screaming and hurling cans while they continue, unperturbed, shopping for which brand of fresh soya beans has the healthiest hue. Other shoppers will brow their foreheads, or stand there their mouths gaping in censor like a disapproving goldfish, but they won't take any notice of them. Their kid is sacred, his poop is a golden nugget from the hands of Zeus himself, his scream a dulcet harmony. Their laissez-faireism is troubling. I've dealt with some of their kids and they're some of the most annoying, unpleasant kids I've ever dealt with in my life. The Mediterranean way of constantly chastising kids is as ludicrously ineffective as the other extreme, but a small dose of discipline and restraint to remind kids that they're not alone in the world is necessary. But not for their kids.
6. They never comb or cut their hair but it always looks good. Bastards.
7. They're laidback and slow-paced... but uptight at the same time. How did they ever manage that?!