The sleaze
The sleaze, although highly (or lowly) regarded as one of the most discouraged club stereotypes, is also one of the most resilient. Having graced the earth with their presence since the last supper (“How you doin’ Mary?”), the sleaze is a clique with a wealth of knowledge, and a wealth of arrogance. (She’s pregnant with God’s child, you inconsiderate arse hole)
Habitat: The sleaze’s habitat can be compared to that of their taste for women, indiscriminate and open for well…open-ness. From suburban slums to city social hubs, the sleaze roams wherever their crotch may lead them. Operating primarily on testosterone, these grease balls line up at any venue where the ratio of women to men is in their favour.
The sleaze’s top 3 nightclubs:
- Room 680, VIC
- La Di Da, VIC
- Marquee, VIC
Physical attributes: A suggestive smile and hair as greasy as their desires, the sleaze is never hard to spot. For some unknown reason, the sleaze often presents with an oily face and scalp. It has been rumoured that the unfortunate looks of the sleaze can be attributed as karma from the big man Himself. “That’ll teach you for hitting on my immaculate child bearer”
The sleaze’s top 3 trends:
- A gold chain (Taking his inspiration from the Bee Gee’s, the sleaze finds strength in the anthem ‘Staying Alive’ when getting stiletto stabs from disinterested females)
- A left earring (“Nah, I’m not gay. It means I’m het-e-ro, bro)
- Leather shoes that are two sizes too big (the idea that females compare foot size to package size is to blame)
Their goal: Between your legs.
How to fit in with the sleaze:
Remove one layer of clothing. This works for both sexes.
How to avoid the sleaze:
Tell them you’re lesbian. Actually, don’t, it’ll turn them on.
The sleaze’s drink of choice:
The nectar of yo’ lips, baby.
Sophie Lane
