Espadrilled

In London, he is loved – largely thanks to his ability to bumble around like a third-hand teddy bear that’s been flushed down the toilet immediately before being packed off for a job interview – because London at this point is solely inhabited by millions of braying, espadrilled berks who communicate exclusively in emojis and haven’t had a single sincere thought since they momentarily got a bit sad about Darfur in 2003.