Suspended Coffees

There's only one thing I don't like about Facebook.  It's not the barrage of baby pictures that trickle down my timeline, it's not the relentless requests to join in the latest round of Words For People With No Friends, it's not even the ironic complaints about privacy that are posted by people on the world's most famous social networking forum - if you're that bothered, don't use it, nobody is forcing you to.  No, the one thing that gets on my nerves is the constant stream of sickly sweet internet memes that are shared en masse by people who didn't eat their Ready Brek and need a little fuzzy warm glow around them.  It's a quick fix of life-affirming positivity.  People don't even think too deeply about what they're sharing as they effortlessly click to show their friends the humanitarian they really are at heart.  Let's take this week's big-hug-in-a-furry-jumper jpeg and caption.  You've all seen it, the photo of a wrinkly old man drinking a cup of coffee.  The Pollyanna passage that follows explains that in some coffee shops people are buying 'suspended' coffees along with their morning cappuccino, the idea being that these suspended coffees go on a tab and any needy person who can't afford a caffeine hit can come in and ask if there are any pre-paid drinks to be had.  So, in a coffee bean, the rich guy buys the poor guy a cup of dark roast.  Lovely.  A swift skim of the frothy surface and a million Facebookers coo at the kindness and forward to their friends before moving on and sharing the next meme - a jpeg of a poor little Polish pussy who has been blown apart after a gang of Neo-Nazis stuck a firework up its bumhole - the photo is a fake, it's actually a shot of Damien Hirst's latest installation - yet the authenticity and plausibility of any posting is irrelevant, it's the feeling of action that it gives to the legion of armchair activists.  'I can change the world with a click of a mouse!'  If only Gandhi and Mother Teresa had a Facebook account, think of all the extra good work they could have done.  Anyway, back to this other wrinkly scrotum-faced coffin-dodger - the old man in this week's internet meme practically decomposing into a cup of coffee.  He has been specifically chosen to tug at our heartstrings, he is so decrepit he has to use two hands to lift the tiny cup to his lips.  He needs this cup of suspended coffee.  He might die without it.  To be honest, if that is anything other than the blood of a virgin in that cup I don't fancy his chances of being around to drain the bottom of it.  It's a pitiful picture, he has pulled us in.  We read the text and we are drawn further into this well-meaning pay-it-forward story but let's look a little closer…

Is this not a brilliant business idea dreamed up by a coffee shop chain?  Think about it.  People aren't just paying overblown prices for one cup of coffee anymore, they are now parting with their hard-earned for an extra cup that they won't even drink.  They are paying twice.  Let's say the average medium-sized latte is £2.50, a good proportion of this amount is profit so the coffee shop chain will be making this profit on suspended coffees too.  They don't care whether you're buying it for the needy, your mate or even the Queen, they have just sold an extra unit and the takings swell the coffers.  Canny.  It's a business model that could be rolled out through any industry, suspended haircuts, suspended shoes, suspended belts?  We all know the needy need their trousers holding up.  For this to be an authentic charitable endeavour the coffee vendors should be offering the suspended coffees at cost price so for every £2.50 you give them, they should provide 5-6 coffees to the needy?  In one chain, if you buy a filter coffee, all subsequent refills are gratis.  Sounds like there isn't such a huge cost price there?  Can't you just give free filter coffee to those in need?  Hmmm… that may present a problem - a long queue of unwashed, unkempt people, it could turn the coffee house into a soup kitchen, I'm not sure the yummy mummies and the wannabe Rowlings would like that too much.  Suspended coffees come with their own inbuilt prevention of this, they can run out.  If too many smelly people come in, you can simply tell them there are no suspended coffees left today, simple.  Although the caffeine-needy may start to stake out branches of Starbucks and Costa waiting to pounce on the next free cup, they may even start hassling people on the way in to leave a suspended coffee for them.  That caffeine is very addictive - once you're hooked…

That's assuming that the needy/homeless will get to hear about suspended coffees, I don't see many of them checking their Facebook accounts along the South Bank of a morning.  Will they be au fait with this terminology?  Even if there is a sign in the window, 'Suspended Coffees Available Here', it's an odd term.  The uninitiated may have visions of an extra-frothed-up, dry, skinny, light cappuccino with no milk or water, just a coffee vapour that gets pumped in your general direction as you inhale.  A triumph in the fight against flab and consumer sanity.  Whatever will they think of next?  Also, who gets to decide who is worthy of a free coffee?  Is it at the discretion of the trainee barista who sometimes has trouble understanding my order?  I'm a simple man - black Americano to go.  How will he cope when confronted with the task of means-testing a punter by appearance?  Not all of the needy are apparent by sartorial inelegance.  On the flipside, Helena Bonham Carter has just won a Golden Ticket to the Frappuccino Factory for the rest of her natural life.  Yet the absence of crass mildly-offensive guidelines will only provide a loophole for politicians to exploit.  Iain Duncan Smith will surely drop in on his way to work to pick up his Double Mocha Macchiato with extra sprinkles and whipped cream.  And those Shoreditch media kids with their unkempt hair and beards on the office coffee run, they could ask for suspended coffees and pocket the money, they need it badly to save up for the secondhand tracksuit tops being resold to them at inflated prices in the jumble sales, sorry, vintage shops.  Mugs. 

If I was predisposed to actions of an altruistic nature, I wouldn't deem coffee an appropriate thing to proffer.  It lacks nutrition and promotes urination.  Never a good combination and I speak from experience.  That pitch at Sainsbury's was a steep learning curve for me.  I always carry a spare pair of briefs in my case now.  Actually, in Sainsbury's, for the price of a coffee, you can buy a rather nutritious and filling meal deal which consists of a sandwich, snack and drink.  Wouldn't that be a better thing to give a crack-faced pensioner than a measly cup of coffee?  You could pay for it with your Nectar points.  Saving the world while you do your weekly shop.  Minimum effort required.  Of course, paying for a suspended coffee also takes away the need to interact with the homeless.  It's the self-scan check out of the charity donation.  As annoying as conversing with that trainee barista can be at least it's better than the uncertainty of talking to that potential psycho sitting on the pavement.  I heard that one of them stabbed a man once.  In Covent Garden.  I know, with all those people about.  Nobody came to his aid.  Even the human statue pretended it wasn't happening.

My partner, Julian, thinks that free coffee for the homeless isn't an altogether ridiculous idea.  He says that a shot of espresso might motivate some of them to get off their arses and find a bloody job.  Harsh but that's one of the things I like about Julian.  He keeps me on my toes.  When I feel like taking it steady in the gym after a hard day in the office, he always reminds me that he could easily trade me in for someone younger.  That's actually very beneficial for my physical health if not my emotional.  I know he loves me really, he's been totally accepting of me and my kids.  My oldest, Jemima, thinks that we shouldn't stop at suspended coffees, she says that we should all go to King's Cross and buy suspended tickets to Birmingham, that way the needy get a free train ride and London solves its homeless problem all in one unselfish act.  That's my girl!  Look out, Boris, you've got some serious competition in a couple of years!

Must dash, my little boy, Thomas, is getting a commendation from the Fire Service for putting out a fire in a skip behind McDonalds.  He's only eight!  I'm too proud at the moment to worry about what he was doing round the back of McDonalds in the first place but fingers crossed we may get a few Happy Meals out of this one.  I collect the toys.  Exciting!