You all know beer boys, even if the phrase isn't one you have heard before (Americans, this means you :) ). I guess a beer boy is the logical progression from jock in the evolution of the wanker.

In the UK, the beer boy is more than simply a genre definition. It's a way of life. In small towns and commuter-belt hellholes across the country, friday night and Saturday night is the Hour Of The Beast. They're not hard to spot. Patent leather shoes with buckles on. Smart black trousers, sometimes label gear, but mostly bought from Top Man. And garish shirts, always (and The Rock means ALWAYS) by YSL, Ralph Lauren, Firetrap or one of the other labels that's expensive enough for them to be fooled that they are being stylish, but too crap for anyone seriously into fashion to take seriously.

Of course, beer boy chic is merely your warning sign. The danger of the beer boy is that he wrecks every social situation he is placed in. With his dickhead mates he will start fights at parties, attack girls in nightclubs with his 'failsafe' pulling method, splatter chilli sauce all over the kebab shop 'as a joke', refer to waiters in Indian restaurants as 'Ghandi' and wade into you and your friends because he imagines you were 'looking at him funny'.

However, there is one worse thing about the beer boy. It's that his brainless self-confidence and Loaded mentality regularly triggers something in the mind of otherwise lovely young ladies, something which I am powerless to comprehend. Why, in God's name, do you ever sleep with these genetic mistakes? I can only assume it's a hangover from the school custom of every gorgeous, nubile teenage goddess lusting after the class bastard who can't string two words together, but drinks, smokes and fights 24/7 from the moment puberty kicks in.

Green Day sang 'Nice Guys Finish Last'. I can live with that truth. What I can't live with is who we finish last to.

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