Cock of the walk

On the day:
19/10/2012 

On the way: 
He struts up and down his promenade - the fried chicken outlet, the charity shop, the post office, the local supermarket and the new cheap furniture store that optimistically opened in the premises where the previous cheap furniture store went bust six months ago. 
Up and down. Up and down. Where else would he be on a Friday morning? Here he's the cock of the walk, the rooster scratching up dust in front of the hen-house. 
His sky-blue Tee-shirt hugs his carefully crafted chest, puffed out with pride and hours of attention in the gym. Crisp blue jeans cling to the legs of this neo-Narcissus and his sneakers sparkle white. 
His chin is lifted, jutting cocky, a pound-shop Cristiano Ronaldo, even when he raises his 10.30am energy drink to his lips. 
And there's the walk, the twitchy strut that says, "See this? You want this? You can't have this, 'cos its mine." At least, that's what he thinks it says. 
Not, "Yikes, these jeans are pressing on my bladder, I should have stopped after two cans." 
Certainly not that. 

On the pod: 
Calm Like You - The Last Shadow Puppets 

On the front page: 
Leaked Savile e-mail puts BBC's defence in doubt (The Times)