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Pooping the Notting silly-billys

Among the many delights in this month’s Tatler is an article about POOPs. Not diamond-encrusted toilet accessories, but that thing that Tatler readers love more than life itself: a social trend. In this case, POOPs stands for Pushed Out of Our Position.

Who, or what, is being pushed out of position? The upper middle classes, of course. Entrepreneurs, bankers and other cash-savvy types are elbowing all the nice Sloanes and erudite professionals out of the picture. Their obscene wallets are setting impossible standards: competitive children’s tea parties, soaring second-home costs, out-of-reach school fees. The trend has even inspired a book, Notting Hell, in which a journalist , Rachel Johnson, lampoons the nouveaux arrivées of West London.

It’s a clever idea, although I wonder whether she has considered the consequences: if the book sells, Johnson might cease to be a bona fide POOP — and find herself — horrors — spending half-term in Mustique or hosting £200-a-head catered dinner parties.

This sense of lost entitlement among the Establishment is nothing new. But if you can afford to hire a whole fairground for your child’s birthday, good luck to you; if you can’t, either get out there and make some money — or get over it.