My wife and I once discussed how our children would grow up and rebel against us using the power of fashion and music.
Spiked green hair, ripped leather jackets and thrash metal music blaring through the stereo was how my wife predicted our boys’ teenage years.
The point of rebelling, of course, is to annoy your parents, which is why I predicted they would turn 16 and sport smart slicked-back hair, cravats and tank tops while listening to classical music at a barely audible volume. Now that would be annoying.
Turns out we were both wrong … and the rebellion is worse than that. Our Bradley has turned 16 and has hijacked our music!
His list of favourite bands is like a mix-tape my favourite bands of the Eighties and Nineties.
He’s even been quoting Smiths lyrics back to me in answer to questions. I asked him about a friend’s car and he told me “the leather runs smooth on the passenger’s seat.” (A quote from the Smiths’ hit This Charming Man in case you didn’t know.)
Our Bradley was first in the queue for Liam Gallagher gig tickets and confidently told me that he knows more about Oasis than I ever could. It’s not a competition!
I think I’d have preferred the swotty classical music nerd I feared, than the swaggering Liam Gallagher wannabe prowling round the house at the moment.
Though it’s not without its lighter moments. Such is his reverence of the more sweary of the Gallagher brothers, that he not only kits himself out in similar clothing (Pretty Green T-shirts, John Lennon shades, etc) but has adopted some of his mannerisms.
As he told me the other day: “You’ve got to have the walk.”
‘The Walk’ being a cock of the North half-strut half-swagger with, I quote, “just enough arm swing to keep people out of your way as you make our way through the college corridors.”
His rock ‘n’ roll superstar persona, however, comes crashing down when it comes to socks. Unless, of course, Mr Gallagher is embroiled in a sock war with his dad too.
He may have all the fancy T-shirts and designer footwear, but our 16-year-old is still raiding my sock drawer.
All very well, but the socks keep disappearing. They never find their way back into the washing basket.
He denied all knowledge of his sock thievery, forcing me to take it upon myself to venture into his bedroom on a sock hunt.
I’ve seen some sights in my time, but a visit to the world beneath a teenager’s bed is not for the faint hearted. To think I used to play the Tooth Fairy and swap a tooth wrapped in tissue paper under his pillow for pound coin. You really don’t want to find out what’s wrapped in the tissue paper under a 16-year-old’s bed. After dodging the tissues and crumpled underwear, I found about 11 pairs of discarded odd socks under there.
Rock ‘n’ roll? This teen rebel’s more Sock ‘n’ Mould!