No. I dont eat at such faux-franz ferdinand lookalike in a cardigan beard/bobble hatted twit/bbc employee fashion cafe/semi old fashion-twist pub bollockory
This is the most intelligent thing you’ve ever posted.
I’ve just got back from This’n’That:
Because we went for a muddy walk first thing, I still had my hiking boots, scruffy outdoor pants and an old T shirt on.
I had my battered old cap on an’all, because it was cold this morning and I’m going bald.*
I was feeling a bit self conscious about walking around The Northern Quarter Ancoats dressed like Compo, but needn’t have feared:
Every bloke between the ages of 20 and 50 was dressed in exactly the same manner – boots, jeans, fleece, cap, attempted moustache/beard.
I no longer know whether I’m surfing the zeitgeist, jumping the shark, a post modernist renaissance man or merely a scruffy bastard living in the least fashionable place in Northern Europe (Burnley).
Help.
*No, I bleeding well haven’t got a Mumford and Son album.
And yes, pulled pork is the 650b of food tossery.