Collectively, plastic cockney owners of speedboats and jetskis who descend on the East Anglian coast at weekends and school holidays wearing medallions and sovereign rings, address male bar staff as "John", talk very loudly with sentences punctuated with "Faarkin" and "Caaant" and when told to shut the fuck up, point out "We're from Laarndon, we got a shootah in da motah" as if coming from a peripheral urban shithole indicates hardness. All it indicates is you're a insecure twat who thinks anyone who lives in the country is stupid enough to believe you used to drink with the Krays.
Wanna find an idiot in the country? Bring someone from Romford with you.
"Don't go down Clacton this bank holiday - the Romford Navy are out in force".