The upside of the collective orgasm over the guttural utterings of a half-naked man with a 12-word vocabulary at Glastonbury is that stab vests are now fashionable and therefore, in high demand. This will lead to competition and the lowering of prices as a result. Capitalism, if you will.
Stab vests are essential wear in London, thanks to its much celebrated mayor, and hey, they're now cool as well.
This will save lives - ironically not something that affects those that forked out 250 quid online from the comfort of their gated cul-de-sacs in the commuter suburbs in leafy outer London for the privilege of entry beyond a wall that ironically, bore slogans like "I don't see any borders, do you?" and a £3,000 yurt they had their driver set up.
A pity this came a bit too late for the pregnant lady in Croydon and the hapless guy in east London, whose brutal deaths at around the same time, were drowned out in the virtue signalling jizz of the trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy-porgy and the centrifugal bumblepuppy.
Hi-vis vests are so last month and passè. Stab vests are where it's at. Primark, are you listening?
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