novice-blogger

That's it, its gone on long enough. I now have to rant about possibly my greatest pet hate, the phenomenon that is 'D4'. Ok, lets clarify the situation. D4 is the postcode for the area that is basically Ballsbridge, Donnybrook and Sandymount. Its not very big and not every person who says 'roysh' or refuses to use public transport is actually from the area. You see, D4 is now an attitude and an image that people portray. It has encompassed hoards of 'individuals' in south Dublin, but a D4-head can be found in any part of the country as long as they fulfill some of the necessary credentials.

Here's an example of D4-ish at its best.

A Friday night town a few weeks back,a group of us decided to head to a wine bar on Leeson Street to get a few late drinks after a club.

We should of none what to expect. The only alcoholic beverages served was wine or champagne - the cheapest bottle at 35 euro a pop. Unfortunately, when its 4.30 in the morning, your drunk,and there is nowhere else to go, these are the lengths you go to.

The tangerined, blonde 'birds' were in abundance. Now,I'm not gonna say that these girls are not attractive to some extent, but once these pretentious plastic barbie dolls open there mouth then any minimal attraction is obliterated. The 'Goys' were in there, collars up and slacks galore, swinging there BMW car keys! Seriously. My wine was beginning to taste bitter and I just knew I was not going to enjoy myself at this point. This was a D4 emporium. Jumped up private school kids, the 'Jocks' from the rugby club and the 'birds' who'd you only ever bump into in UCD or one of those extremely over-priced coffee shops.

Anyway, a few of my mates actually went to one of these south Dublin fee-paying schools, but fortunately for them and society as a whole, they resent the fact that there parents presumed that sending them there would increase their chances of success, or give them more opportunities in life. I don't know, I'm trying to defend these people for enlisting their innocent children into the obnoxious domain of elitist snobbery.

One of my friends was getting chatted up by a D4-er. She knew a few of the lads who had gone to the rugger-bugger school so this meant that he was obviously worth talking to - he probably had money, a nice car or played senior cup rugby. Well, she was all over him, rubbing his hair and laughing pathetically at everything he said. We were observing from a short distance. Then, suddenly, the expression on her face changed. Had he been sleazy, had he offend her, did he say a really pathetic line....?No, she had said "oh were you in the goys class in school then"? He informed her that he hadn't been and he had attended a perfectly good public school five minutes down the road, but Daddy hadn't paid thousands and there was no rugby team. Alas, love at first sight had been demolished. She actually just upped and left. We couldn't believe it when he told us.

Welcome to Dublin, welcome to the sad, pretentious, world of the D4-head.