Last week two-year-old Alfie Lun threw a massive tantrum, right as he was supposed to be handing over a bouquet to the Queen. Alfie was with his military parents at the unveiling of a war memorial in London, when he had his strop.
Bucking and kicking, as only a determined small child can, at one point he even seemed to try to grab the flowers back from her majesty.
As I watched video footage of the lad squirming in his two-piece suit and tie, I felt more than cute amusement. I felt affinity.
Alfie’s revolt in his Sunday best spoke to me. How many of us can honestly say we’ve never had a day where we just wanted to lie on the floor and kick and scream?
Modern life, spent working in claustrophobic offices full of petty politics and bureaucracy is a ticking time bomb of frustration.
Mr Blonde remembers arriving at Canary Wharf for his first job out of uni, and standing behind two men in suits who audibly tutted at the 80-something lady in front of them trying to navigate the TfL ticket machine.
He wasn’t in Kansas anymore, he was in E14.
And here we do things fast and furious. Or at least fast with passive aggression.
Perhaps if those two guys had felt their feelings, collapsed onto the floor and beat their fists and feet like children they would have felt better.
It would have saved them bothering the poor lady with her travel card.
It probably would have saved them a lot of therapy. If we are going to act like children, then we should go the whole hog. Let rip.
Alfie was all smiles minutes later. We could do with some of that too.
Follow Angela on Twitter @TheAngelaClarke .
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