No way

It could be like the beginning of a joke:

Now, there were these three stereotypes walking down the pedestrianised street…

Indeed, three of them, yesterday, walking together. Let me describe them to you, from left to right:

The first: blond guy with an Elvis hairdo, huge 80’s pornstar sunglasses, gold chain round his neck and an impeccable white suit. I really liked the suit, however I would not know what occasion to save it for.

The second: greasy, short, chubby guy in his forties. Head topped by a tousle of thinning hair last washed last month. Wearing a battered ancient relic of a polo shirt, with its buttons defunct, hence wide open at the neck. Stooping slightly.

The third: olive skinned, greasy raven-black hair in a pony-tail, toned, in his twenties. A-bit-of-a-lad gait and overall swaying movement. Jeans on, designer. T-shirt on, three sizes smaller than conducive to breathing, possibly to accentuate the musculature.

To counterbalance the above, three pretty shots of the town.

Ochre and blue

A quiet corner



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