Well written Alvey. This reads like this forums 'mission statement'.

Alvey, you're so nice to wake up to...  Enjoyed this immensely... 

Whatever you do, have a good one and love to the family.

'Skinny jeans'.  A look I fail to understand.  Football hooligans looking like off-duty rent boys.  The tattoo?  I'm ashamed of mine but, yes, back in 1976 an act of rebellion.  The tattooist, roll-up between his lips, a splash of Captain Morgan in his well-sugared tea.  'Now, mate, if yer arm should drop off I'm not liable...  y'unnerstan'?'  'Fair enough'.  My elder daughter has two.  Moronic.  Or Omicron.

Whoever spotted that anagram is on the ball.

Chaps,
Please feel free to suggest who else should populate the suburbs in Vanker Ville. I'm sure you can think of some more tribes I've forgotten
Yes Woof - forget the tattoo's. Or is it now called body art?
Remember though Little Ivy whilst not exclusive draws the line at people who take it all too seriously.

'Body art'.  That got me thinking.  Perhaps the Japanese (for example) promoted it in this way.  But, in my youth, circa 1975, it was your show-off dickhead who sported a tattoo.  Usually just the one, though.  Often a swallow with their name beneath.  I was a slightly wild kid who considered necking whisky and having an ear pierced as acts guaranteed to piss off the older generation.
Now I am the older generation.

Watch it.

There are penalties for straying from the straight and narrow path.

Such as having your Emma Peel collection confiscated.

^ LOL!

Chaps,
Please feel free to suggest who else should populate the suburbs in Vanker Ville. I'm sure you can think of some more tribes I've forgotten

Lads Town, here you'll find young lads in hoodies, joggers, sliders & Sports Direct white socks. The obligatory man bag is an essential accessory along with a stick thin girlfriend with a David Dickenson fake tan and Groucho Marx eyebrows. Oh I forgot the hoodie has to worn over the LA Dodgers Baseball cap.
A down jacket can also be worn all year round even during the hottest days of summer.

A poster on here once defined Shoreditch as 'Twat Central'.

Preparing for Shuffleton is the sixty-something who knows you want his parking space so spends at least five minutes studying non-existent text messages while waiting for 'er indoors (mutton dressed as mutton) to reappear from B and M.  A good many of these about in the pre-Christmas period.  Their sons are the hulking brutes in nylon football shirts and grubby trainer socks humping great boxes of cheap lager across the car park.  They still think Boris Johnson is a card, would love to have a selfie taken with Nige and enjoy Jeremy Corbyn's TV show: 'All dem work-shy chavs on benefits, matey.  Ought to be put up against a wall 'n...'  Also - on and off - 'Daily Mail' enthusiasts.  Personalised number-plates are sometimes in evidence.

On the outskirts of town is RuggerBugger Hill. Here you'll find a strange mix of tweed, heavily logo'd rugby shirts that aren't anything to do with actual clubs and shirts with collars that simply won't sit straight. You see these chaps look slightly lost when it comes to Summer. It's the only time of the year when they can't wear their brogues n barbours. Fit is unimportant as fitting-in here is more important. Right of centre politics, a love of Cornwall and remembering a true gentlemen always lights a ladies farts.