I’m embracing my inner Karen
From our UK edition
I told off four strangers last week. The first was a foreign gentleman lounging on a side lawn at Marble Arch and cooking a meal. He fanned the flames of his makeshift barbecue with a flap of cardboard as four women in long robes looked on, awaiting their feast. ‘You can’t cook here’, I said. He looked at me blankly. His harem scowled. ‘It’s disgusting’, I said. Smoke swirled at my ankles. I left. I have joined that least loved section of society: white people of a certain age who feel a burning urge to rebuke the loutish and ill-mannered. Next up was a middle-aged man at Portman Square who was roaring into his mobile phone in Arabic.