Considerably Richer Than Yow

I’ve just had dinner in a family pub/restaurant next to the ‘Considerably richer than yow’ characters from Harry Enfield. There was the Mum: a hard faced, blonde streaked, fake tanned stick insect with inflated bosoms and gold jewellery covering her. There was another woman, who was obviously Granny - the same as Mum, but older and more leathery.
There was Dad, with Jeremy Clarkson hair, an open-necked shirt straining to cover his huge belly, and a thick gold chain around his neck.
Mum was upset with the children; Chanel - no, I’m not making this up - Sky and a teenaged girl whose name I didn’t catch, who was whining loudly that the only thing she wanted for Christmas was a Rolex. All of the girls were dressed in baby pink and dripping with jewellery. Even the baby.
The mother kept telling the baby to behave herself, but did absolutely nothing to keep her amused, and left it to the girls to follow her around and make sure she was safe, while Mommy dear drank Chardonnay - or maybe that was one of the other kids’ names? I get confused.
At one point, after hearing her mother complaining that the baby wasn’t behaving and seeing her pouting her collagen filled lips once too often, one of the older girls told the mother that she was embarrassing her, and to shut up. The mother’s reply was pure class; she slapped the teenager across the face.
All the money they kept loudly talking about - twenty grand this, forty grand that - didn’t stop them availing of as much free salad and bread as they could carry.
They were vulgar, crass, loud and inconsiderate of other families; considerably richer than me, of course, but only in financial terms. As members of the human race, they were dirt poor.