on a cool thursday morning in june these smart , thin , rich people are mostly at work , or playing golf , or queueing up at wimbledon , and their cars sit nose-to-tail in a polymer chain in front of the pavements , which abut the neat and tidy front gardens with their stone paths and their fragrant flower-beds and their warnings about the hideous things that happen to doorstep salesmen , unwanted pollsters , and other vile scum .