THE first signs of spring are here and with them, some twat is already parading around in shades.
Temperatures remain low but blossom is on trees, rays of golden sunlight are penetrating through blankets of cloud, and local compulsive narcissist Tom Booker has donned his Wayfarers like the arsehole he is.
Cruising along in his 2008 Audi A4 with Drake blaring, wearing a white linen shirt open to the sternum, three-quarter length trousers and espadrilles, Booker is a sure sign that spring has arrived but not a welcome one.
Friend Stephen Malley said: “It’s lovely out, for March. It is in no way bright enough to need sunglasses, but Tom’s a twat.
“What can I say? The dick loves summer. And thinks by projecting a laid-back Mediterranean image in temperatures not warm enough to soften butter he’ll attract women, even though he’s not smiling. He’s clenching his teeth to stop them chattering.
“Like lambs in the fields and crocus poking out from the earth, Tom is a reminder spring is here and soon the beer gardens will be full of wankers in shades, the cities full of knobheads on their pathetic balconies, the roads full of middle-aged men in sports cars.
“In a way he’s a useful reminder that not everything about the changing of the seasons is good. Or, alternatively, he’s just a twat in sunglasses.”
