I just like the freedom. I want my toes to be almost totally free,
says UCD Commerce student, JP Staunton.
A light blanket of what an Irish person might describe as 'wet rain' is tucking our nation's capital in for the evening. I've bumped into JP wearing flip-flops in the middle of O'Connell Street at 6:30pm on this pure mawky Dublin evening; his jeans are soaked, and only an oversized McWilliam gearbag hanging lazily by his side is shielding his bare feet from the hazy elements.
What the hell is he doing? It's nearly November, for Christ's sake.
Yeah, no, it's strangely liberating. You can feel the cool air keeping your feet almost fresh, you know?
I'm struck by both his chilled honesty and how outstandingly stupid he sounds.
It's a curious sub-culture. Every few years, a generation of Irish men seem to think they're Australian.
In the mid-2000s, we almost invariably found ourselves perched in a barber's chair on the last day of school, having our scalps manhandled through a latex head-mask by some sort of hook-like utensil. After 35 minutes of intense pain, we emerged looking like miniature pints of Guinness, to the scorn of our parents.
By 2010, we had finally stopped trying to look like total jeb-ends, but we did succumb to the flowery shorts phenomenon - an admittedly far less reprehensible fashion faux pas, especially considering the prominence of Penney's in the Irish sub-conscious.
But this 'wearing flip flops all year round' situation is our most heinous crime by quite some distance. Who do we think we are? It's literally pissing rain here for two thirds of the year.
Still flip flop and shorts weather #october #winteriscoming pic.twitter.com/NnHmR1JI5g
— Charles Davie (@chuckdavie) October 18, 2015
It's long been argued by experts that feet are the third most disgusting organ in the male anatomy. They're just gross. They have toenails and they have weird hair on them and they can smell very, very bad.
I'll admit it - sometimes I can't even look at my own feet without dry-heaving.
To bear your disgusting feet in public months after summer - be it on the streets, in the office or in the shops - is an act of terror that should not be tolerated.
On this day, October 1st, I officially declare that the flip-flop season of 2015 is now over. #UntilNextYear
— Jay Sherrill (@JaySherrill) October 1, 2015
And it is often the shops that bear the brunt of this inconsiderate, pedal offence, because they tend to be the first place flip flop-wielding lunatics stop after some early-morning squatting at the gym.
So far it's unknown exactly what these freaks have against socks, or normal shoes. The compulsion to air your rotten feet out in flip flops after a shower - as anyone who lives with male students will tell you - is an offence becoming more and more prevalent in Irish society.
These 'bros,' as they tend to refer to themselves, originally stemmed from a variety of fee-paying rugby schools from Cork to Dublin, with family holidays to Orlando and Dubai along with mid-term Home and Away binge-sessions influencing convincing these impressionable youths that, 'if they can do it, we should be able to do it.'
It is a pretence perhaps also inexplicably linked to the total berk musicians who believe they can only truly be themselves on stage if they perform in bare feet, although this is thus far unproven by scientists.
You know you're a Californian when you have a "flip flop tan" in October! 😎😜 https://t.co/sLfgSVBEDO
— Stace✌🏼 (@Cali_Stace) October 17, 2015
Nonetheless, these psychopaths must be stopped. It's fucking October. We are Irish. We have pale, scaly, bawny Irish feet, unwashed by warm golden sand and seawater. We were genetically programmed to wear socks - look no further than your father when he puts on his hideous summer sandals.
And, even if you put the hygenic and aesthetic aspects aside briefly, these bros are going to catch their bloody death in the cold. Put 'em away, lads.
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