thought i would start this thread in honour of lambeths fetish spotted these this afternoon in a carpark in hayle a nice mix of blue sandals and grey/white socks
This could be an interesting thread, who can get the best pic of a stranger in dodgy foot ware without getting caught
the advantage of living down here with he summer on the way could put me in a strong position for that title
Sorry lads I love my crocs.They are so comfy for pottering about in.Wouldnt wear em with socks though or venture out shopping in em.That pic reminds me of the continental lorry drivers from europe that used to deliver tyres for conti.Terrible dress sense and some used to reek of B/O.Smelly c*nts.
I'm beginning to wonder if the sartorial expertise of Lambeth Longshanks is to be trusted... I offer these two truths to be evident. A: After searching the metrolopis fervently all week for any signs of the sockdal, it was only as the train paused at Exeter Central station, a mere four miles from home that I spotted this dedicated follower of fashion through the carriage window. And 2: Whilst proceeding within his very own turf, I came across this hint that he may, himself be not be trusted left to his own devices... Is this, truly, a man to follow...
What is wrong with you lot.............and....... I don’t know Ken, never meet the fella, not even in that boozer next to Southwark tube station on Tuesday. As for Alex, man, the only thing I can say is, thank god you shaved that manky beard off or Ken would have to be explaining to his good lady why he has a rash all over his ugly boat race. I have taken note that you didn’t bother shaving for me… So.... I get the message and before you say it.....your chucked, have a nice life you two timing lanky git.
I never even heard of a boozer opposite Southwark Station, especially on the junction of Union Street and Blackriars Road and even if I had I would never frequent such a place. As for shaving, neither of us had bothered and we velcro'd together like two dogs shagging all the way to HMS Belfast before he stood upright and nearly tore my cheek off.
This is a mustard thread! SockDalistas in Cornwall or Devon or whatever! Class. I was explaining my cutting-edge Metrosexual fashion to Mrs Longshanks, who said 'More like Hobosexual'. Which hurt. And young Master Longshanks has got me down as a tramp too. Lovely. Family, eh? But the dog is scruffy and he likes me.
I see where you're going with this but remember, Hitler's dog loved him too. The SockDalistas of the peninsula are not haute couturiers but livestock worrying, tenth generation incestuals who only appear at railway stations so they can wave pitchforks and firebrands at the 'metal dragon' as it screams past. Also, attempting to work the word 'sex' into this lost cause, even by burying it deep into the favourite buzzwords of the imperial tailors of the metropolis is, frankly, pissing upwind in a hurricane in this context. Let it go. Walk away with what's left of your dignity intact. Try a flip flop. Still a sartorial faux pas but more accepted in that casual, Brit abroad without a clue fashion favoured by club 18 to 30 veterans and off duty servicemen. This will help ease you back, relatively unscarred into the world of the well heeled boot and suiters. Let this be an intervention of a sort.
Lambeth Longshanks, this is lifted from FaceBook. This proves it's not just me but the whole world that feels this way.
I have the five finger shoes and they are very comfy but I will come out and say I like my birkenstocks. I'm always in them there I said it
Birkenstocks are obviously the top drawer of Sockdal metrosexuality. With a cheeky little pair of knee-high white tube socks you're just about an unstoppable juggernaut of a pulling machine. It doesn't get any better.
Try it, Ken. The effect on the ladeez is brutal. As we say in the local parlance, "Trus' me, bruv. Innit."
