What is it . . .

. . . about young men today? I bumped into one the other day. Literally. He was walking head down, fingers dancing feverishly on the mobile phone in front of him and a pair of huge headphones over his ears – and he walked straight into me. I kept my cool (for those readers not hip enough to understand this street talk, it means I didn’t lose my temper) and said “WTF are you doing. Why don’t you look where you’re f*****g going. Moron.”

His reply sounded like “Uuhhh Uh u crrrrr.” With his baseball cap on the wrong way and with the crotch of his dirty jeans at a level somewhere below his knees, he looked and sounded like something not quite developed enough to rise up from the primordial swamp.

I have long ago given up telling these social inadequates that the clue to wearing a cap is the peak; that its purpose is to stop the sun from going in the wearer’s eyes, which for most of us are located at the front of our heads not the back.

 So, I looked at the rather good looking young lady who he seemed to be accompanying him, seeking a translation. What is it about these young men today. They look like shit, they dress like shit, they don’t appear to be able to string a sentence of more than two words together and yet, as far as the opposite sex is concerned, they all punch well above their weight. Mrs Scady thinks it must be something about the size of their genitalia, but Mrs Scady is always thinking about such things. I’m sure that the answer lies with the girls; that despite their obvious attraction physically, they are all dumb blondes from Essex. Perhaps this is a subject for another day.

Anyway, the girl looked at me, smiled, and mouthed, “Sorry.” And they both walked on as if nothing had happened.