I lived for a while in a village in Northern England (when I was a teenager) that demonstrated the difference between the classes beautifully. Basically, four types of people lived in this affluent little patch:

- What I termed the 'old' money, people whose families had a few quid and had handed it down or been beneficiaries of. All well spoken, excellent manners and that unpracticed air of detachment that makes them unfathomable to the rest of us. The Amenities Society was made up of these people, and they were fighting a rearguard action against everyone else who were encroaching on their precious village. They ran the local Conservative Association (mostly these were 60 plus blue-rinsers al la Mrs. Thatch) and were often very nice, but vaguely disdainful of all newcomers (until a newcomer said something they disagreed with, when they would all tut loudly and look to the skies for deliverance with overt disdain).

- The second lot were working class come good. People who through their own endeavors had made a few bob and moved to the posh village down the road to take their rightful place alongside the wealthy and famous. Often found at the Cricket or Squash Club, or perhaps braying loudly in one of the villages two pubs. Their superiority complex knew no bounds and they were supremely confident in their place at the top of the food chain. Often headed up Church-affiliated organisations i.e. Youth clubs and always got in the local paper when they took turns to be lollipop man when the actual chap was on holiday.

- Thirdly, the aspirational middle classes - often upper middle or senior management who moved into the not-quite-so-big houses on estates (this was my dad). Badminton and Round Table members to a man (Ladies Circle for the wife), all had top-range saloons as part of the company package and organised discos and mediaeval banquets etc for charity (to the utter dismay of the old money types who were convinced there was no place for such things in the social calendar - I actually heard a group of them say this). Would dine in one of the expensive restaurants in the village on special occasions only.

- Finally, the people who lived in the token council estate and old-people's bungalows. These became the real winners when Thatcher started letting people buy their council houses and the lucky residents found themselves sitting on a bit of prime real estate in a sought after location. Found in the village club with snooker, doms and subsidised beer (a haven of sanity). Often mixed with the second lot as basically the only difference was the amount of bunce they had and the size of their cars.

Eventually the house prices got so inflated no young families could afford to move there and the decimation of the local social housing stock meant the village became a sort of haven for the very rich. Even as we speak wealthy premiership footballers with class pretensions (as Richard suggested, they confuse wealth with taste) are tearing down the fine old houses that the village is made up of and throwing up chav palaces of the most dubious architectural integrity - basically penis extensions in brick and stone cladding. Bling for boys with a wad.