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.