So, there I was strolling casually through Nottingham the other day when I was passed by a group of youths. Youths in drainpipes.

Now drainpipes ain’t my thing, as you’d guess, but by Christ not only were they wearing drainpipes but they were braying, braying about their achingly cool band and what they were doing on Saturday night. Look at them.

Now I have no problem with people talking to each other on the street, I’m not a psycho, but when they do it at an ear splittingly loud volume intended to ‘impress’ all around, I do. I really don’t need to hear about Jake’s band, nor do I need to hear about the ‘random shit’ he does. Ok?

Ok.

I also thought the bottle of white wine sticking out of the back of the Blake Fielder-Civil wannabe’s bag was a nice bohemian touch.