We married ‘down' – it's the secret to a sizzling sex life
But while 20-year-old Jess was quickly smitten with her handsome boyfriend, not everyone was quite so pleased.
4
'Bradley bought me a drink, chatted me up and made me laugh,' recalls Jess, then a chemistry undergraduate at the University of Manchester.
'When he asked for my number my university mates were horrified.'
It was a similar story with her upper middle class parents.
Did poor Brad have bad breath or a drug habit which put off her friends?
No. His crime was not having a degree — with Jess's friends and family claiming she was 'dating down'.
And she's not the only one.
With far more girls now going to university than boys in Britain, increasing number of couples are made up of a white collar wife and blue collar bloke — with some claiming this pairing is the secret to both a healthy bank balance and a sizzling sex life.
'Breath of fresh air'
Jess, 30, says: 'Mum and dad made it clear even socialising with a tradie was out of the question — a girl like me was better and smarter than that.
'They wanted the best for me, but I found it boring.
'They wanted me to marry up.
Behind the Scenes with Celebs: The Rise of Couples Counselling
'Their friends were constantly bragging about the wealthy or well-to-do husbands their daughters were marrying.'
But when Bradley asked Jess out, she instinctively wanted to say yes.
She said: 'My inner rebel geek took hold.
'Brad was honest from the start, admitting he'd grown up on a local estate, had been a bit of a ladies' man and wasn't parent-pleasing material.
'He made me laugh, he had great banter and he could fix things.'
And Bradley, 41, excelled in another area.
Jess says: 'He's also an amazing kisser, great in bed and a lover who was definitely good with his hands.'
While once it was the done thing for women to 'marry up' for financial reasons, the tables have turned.
Last year, over half of British women reported feeling financially independent.
Now females have more freedom when choosing their spouse — and are plumping for males who are more physical and practical than brainy breadwinners.
Women are more likely to go to universit y than men.
In 2018, 53.6 per cent of girls went on to higher education, compared to 40.2 per cent of boys.
Like most women I've always had a 'perfect-man checklist. When I met Rob he didn't tick any of those boxes but I soon discovered that my list was snobby and shallow
Laura
It seems to be a global trend, with stats showing females being more educated than males in the US, France and Belgium too.
This means the dating pool of men at university has dwindled while women can rely on themselves financially.
Plus a survey by Materials Market found 74 per cent of women partnered with a blue collar worker said they were good in bed or better than more learned blokes.
After seven years together, Jess and Bradley, who live in Chichester, West Sussex, married in 2022 and welcomed their son a year later.
Jess says: 'People who think marrying down is wrong are just snobs.
'Brad's amazing in bed, better than university lads.
'Our marriage will last, while girls I know who married up are already divorced.'
4
4
Bradley thinks the marriage works because the couple bring their 'brains and brawn together'.
Jess agrees.
She adds: 'I may be the brains but he works hard for his money.
'He's not obsessed with keeping up with the Joneses and I find that to be a breath of fresh air.
'When we met, he was living paycheck to paycheck but he still continued to treat me like a princess.
'He wasn't bothered that I was smarter than him.
'When I started work as a specialist pharmacist he was thrilled and didn't care that I earned double his wage.
'I fell out with some of my posh pals who accused me of dating down and slumming it.
Brad's building a business. He admits he doesn't understand chemistry, I don't understand the difference between a spanner and a screwdriver
Jess
'Brad's building a business.
'He admits he doesn't understand chemistry, I don't understand the difference between a spanner and a screwdriver.
'Tradies are never out of work, they are in demand, and they have great chat.
'I'd rather be with a tradie than a doctor or surgeon.'
As for her parents, Jess says: 'When they met Bradley they didn't like him.
'But after a year he'd won them over with his charm, kindness and commitment to our family.'
Privately educated Laura Dolphin, 38, had a similar experience when she found love with husband Rob, 40, who left school at the age of 16 to become a mechanic.
'I went to a posh private school and some of my friends were determined to marry up and nab the richest and poshest husbands,' says Laura, who lives in Northampton with Rob and their seven-year-old daughter.
'I have dated lawyers and uber-wealthy businessmen with expensive motors and pedigree backgrounds.'
Before meeting Rob in 2013, Laura, who is a CEO for a global company, was in a relationship with someone she describes as a 'super academic' from a wealthy family.
She says: 'It ended when I realised he'd never consider me his equal or be interested in my goals.
'I'd realised marrying up meant living your husband's life.'
Rob was a corporal in the British Army when he and Laura met.
'Like most women I've always had a 'perfect-man checklist',' she says.
'When I met Rob he didn't tick any of those boxes but I soon discovered that my list was snobby and shallow.
'When he wasn't fixing vehicles in the Army, he taught skiing.
'I was a learner in one of his classes when we met, and for a week, he saw me falling over, sliding on my butt, and making a fool of myself.
'He wasn't someone I'd ever considered dating material but on the last night we shared a drink, had a laugh and he asked for my number.
'Within days, he called.
'We had the same dark sense of humour.
'I'd been an Army reservist, and we could talk about anything.
'They were snobs'
'He didn't care if I'd been to a private school or was a CEO earning more than him.
'He was my opposite and yet we fit.
'When I told a close friend about him she was stunned, telling me he was 'below my rank' and she didn't like him.
'Her response was shocking — we haven't spoken since.'
While they may be opposites, Laura says they were the perfect match, marrying in 2016.
'I do the finances, all the household planning and organisation, the timetables and schedules and Rob does the heavy lifting,' she says.
'Instead of the mansion and posh cars I dreamt of, we live in a three-bed terrace with a veggie patch and chickens.
'Rob thinks lots of my mates look down on him, but they're jealous.
'So many of my friends are divorced and those who are still single can't find a man.
'My advice is to chuck out the checklist and marry down — it's a recipe for a happy life.'
Rob agrees.
He says: 'She's the boss and brains, but being the brawn means I have my uses, too.
'The moment I met Laura, I felt a connection.
'We know our marriage will last.'
Dating coach and relationship expert James Preece, owner of HeraHaven, has seen a rise in women looking for 'high emotional intelligence' rather than someone who can provide for them.
He says: 'They understand that relationship success comes from having similar values and life goals, and are comfortable with being the main earner.'
Pensions and human resources executive Paige Bournett lives in Worcester with her fiance, forklift driver Adam Taylor, 38.
They have been together seven years and are getting married in 2026.
I was raised to be prim and proper. I was told to stay at school, go to university and marry a lawyer, doctor or businessman
Paige
Paige, 31, tried 'dating up' but found the men boring, bad in bed and only interested in their needs.
She says: 'I was raised to be prim and proper.
'I was told to stay at school, go to university and marry a lawyer, doctor or businessman.
'But every super geek or university lad who asked me out didn't care about my needs.
'When I met Adam at a nightclub in 2018, he was cocky, sure of himself and full of funny banter.
'I was in heaven.'
At the time, Adam was in between jobs but this did not deter Paige.
Within two months they were a couple and Adam, who left school at 16, spent time on Universal Credit and flitting between part-time low-level jobs.
Paige recalls: 'My posh friends were horrified he didn't have a career or 'prospects.'
'I didn't care, they were snobs.
'I had the checklist for a husband — a rich man who would have a big house and I wouldn't have to work.
'Instead, I found a fella who is a forklift driver and earns less than me but is a dedicated fiance and who loves me.
'My checklist was silly, I'd be unhappily single if I'd stuck to it.
'My single friends who at first slagged off my choice are now asking him to introduce them to his tradie mates.'
Adam adds: 'Paige was posh and prim when I met her, but she was not a snob.
'She's my uptown girl and I am proud to be her downtown man.'
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The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
The fisherman aesthetic: anglercore is everywhere – but does it suit me?
It was, in the end, a fashion trend awaiting better weather. Now that summer is here, the 'fisherman aesthetic', long heralded as one of the key looks for 2025, has finally arrived. Or has it? Standing on the beach at Hastings, with a stiff wind blowing into my face, I am adding one layer of fishing gear on top of another while holding my fisherman's hat on my head, gently overheating under a hazy sky. I'm not sure this is what Vogue had in mind when it predicted that 'the menswear customer will take to water, embracing the 'fisherman aesthetic'' earlier this year. I can't see anyone else on the beach embracing it. Then again, I can't see anyone else on the beach. These early predictions have now hardened into a mantra. 'What started as a humble nod to weathered knit sweaters, sturdy boots and utilitarian outerwear has turned into a full-fledged movement,' declared lifestyle website The Velvet Runway. 'Practical gear like rainboots, work jackets and canvas totes abound,' said Cosmopolitan. 'Less yacht club, more fishing dock,' said InStyle. By the end of March, Veranda magazine felt able to confirm that 'the fisherman aesthetic now reigns supreme in both fashion and interior design'. However, when you investigate the origins of fisherman chic, it quickly becomes clear there are two main branches to the trend. The first is more of a general nautical vibe than a uniform: striped tops, baggy khakis, boat shoes, cable knits. The Daily Mail cited 'the naval-inspired looks on the recent runways of Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren and Proenza Schouler' as sources for the trend, said to be an offshoot of the 'coastal grandma' look (no, me neither) from a few years ago, which was largely confined to women's fashion. It's beach-friendly, casual and understated (Diane Keaton in the film Something's Gotta Give is apparently an inspiration for it). People dedicated to showing you how to get the look on TikTok are at pains to point out that you may well own most of the stuff already. The second strand, what might be termed the male version of fisherman chic, comes at it from another direction, specifically fly-fishing. New York menswear boutiques such as Blue in Green have been selling out of the multi-pocketed fishing vests favoured by anglers. According to the Washington Post, outfitters catering to fly-fishermen have recently seen revenue boosted by sales to men who don't fish, but are keen to adopt a look the paper dubbed 'anglercore'. Where these traditional outfitters might once have been pleasantly bewildered by all the extra online traffic, the industry is catching on. Streetwear brands and angling companies have begun collaborating on outdoor clothing lines. Last autumn, the Canadian rapper Drake, through his Nike brand Nocta, produced an actual fly-fishing reel in collaboration with Abel Reels. Where the womenswear strand of fisherman chic seems to be more about inspiration – using a nautical theme as a jumping-off point – the menswear seems more like direct occupational appropriation – literally buying the stuff real fishermen use. As the stylist and fashion writer Peter Bevan sees it, the authenticity of the gear is the point of this angler aesthetic. 'If, say, Gucci did a fishing jacket, and they bought that one, it's almost like them faking it,' he says. 'When it comes to workwear, men just like to buy into the proper brands that do it and the real type of workwear, rather than anything that feels manufactured.' There is an inverted aesthetic at work: in most cases the clothing is purely functional; it has no style per se, only a kind of perceived integrity. The Japanese workwear brand Montbell uses the slogan 'Function is beauty', which is one way of saying: this stuff looks this way for a reason. Fly-fishing vests, for example, are often cropped weirdly short, but that's not a style – it's so the pockets don't get wet when you're standing up to your ribcage in a river. And they aren't covered in pockets because pockets are cool; it's because anglers need storage for all the kit they carry into the water. 'You're using floats, you might use sinks, you've got spools of nylon,' says Mark Bowler, editor of Fly Fishing & Fly Tying magazine. 'You've got a dry fly box, you've got a nymph box, you've got a lure box. You'll have scissors, forceps, nips. You've got numerous tools, almost medical, dangling off the waistcoat. You might have a hook retriever in there …' There is an obvious irony to this extreme functionality, in that few, if any, of the influencers wearing fly-fishing vests on the streets of Brooklyn will ever use the garment for its intended purpose, or even know what that is. '… You've got leaders, sight indicators, magnifiers, your sandwiches,' says Bowler. 'You might have a water bottle in the back of it, because it's got pockets at the back. There might be scales in there for weighing fish, or tungsten putty.' On the beach in Hastings, I am having a certain amount of trouble rationalising the two branches of the fisherman aesthetic. My jacket would suit weather more foul than I'm likely to encounter all year. Meanwhile, the Schöffel fly-fishing shirt I'm wearing looks like something Nigel Farage might go canvassing in, only it's made of a lightweight, quick-drying polyester. Who knows? Maybe his is too. There is, of course, something immediately satisfying about wearing a technical garment; it bestows a certain sense of competence and expertise all by itself. The Wensum fly vest by Farlows – a British outfitter established in 1840 – has four capacious pockets on the front and a swatch of shearling wool just below the right shoulder which, it turns out, is for hanging your flies on. The Ayacucho Trailblazer vest has no fewer than 10 pockets, and also – somehow – repels mosquitoes. 'Some include a life vest as well,' says Bowler. 'So if you fall in, the waistcoat explodes.' This is a lot of technical overkill for a fashionable piece of streetwear. Even without the capacity for inflation, it would be difficult to find a use for 10 pockets on dry land. But that, I know, is not the point – these things are fashionable because they are technical. In many ways, we have been here before. Workwear, with its utilitarian shape and built-in sense of purpose, is a perennial fashion favourite. Brands such as Carhartt and Dickies have made a fortune selling blue-collar style to men who can't change a plug. And the fisherman aesthetic is nothing new: the Aran knit was Vogue's celebrated jumper of 2015 and fisherman's scarves, hats and oilskins were big items in 2016. GQ declared fly-fishing 'the next wave in menswear' back in 2019. Bowler recalls an even earlier collision between fly-fishing and fashion, when Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler wore feathers in his hair during a stint as an American Idol judge. The long rooster feathers he chose were also used by the fly-tying industry. 'Everybody wanted them,' says Bowler. 'And we couldn't get them because all the suppliers were being rung up by hairdressers saying, 'Look, we'll pay anything for them.'' News of the current fashion for angling gear has also reached Bowler, although he is not exactly persuaded. He doesn't see a future in which he treats angling gear as a look to be seen in. 'You know what, Tim? When I go fishing, the last thing I want to see is another person.' However, he has noticed that even the most technical gear is becoming more fashion-conscious. 'You'd find it hard to look stylish in waders,' he says. 'But even waders are becoming more fitted, in lighter materials. They used to be like PVC with wellies on the end, and now they're kind of a fitted, breathable material. You actually attach boots to the bottom of them and they have a belt, you know, which gives you a bit more shape.' Indeed outfitters, including Montbell, produce chest-high fishing waders you might feasibly wear to a gallery opening. Another Japanese clothing company, South2 West8, is known for producing stylish gear that will also serve you well on the river. Although if I owned a £358 fly vest (currently on sale at £250), I don't think I'd want to get it wet, especially when you can buy a 'real' vest from an angling supplier for as little as £25. Could an interest in the clothes, as the Washington Post dares to suggest, eventually foster a corresponding interest in fly-fishing? Could the gear lead the hipsters to the sport? Bowler has seen nothing to support that notion. He acknowledges that while angling has a higher profile these days (thanks, in part, to Paul Whitehouse and Bob Mortimer fishing on television), an interest in fly-fishing is not the same thing as fly-fishing. 'The number of fishermen – it's not booming,' he says. 'It's dwindling, in fact.' It's the same story on the sea. In the 1980s, Hastings boasted a fishing fleet of more than 40 vessels, but the ones I'm using as a backdrop for my fashion shoot are reputedly among the last five or six still regularly working. It would be a shame if, in 10 years' time, all that people know about fishing is the clothes. While the nautical movement and the fisherman aesthetic may be two distinct trends, independent and coincidental, they do have one thing in common, and it ain't fishing. Both looks are essentially about wealth. Fly-fishing chic, with its checked shirts, waxed Barbour jackets and old-fashioned gear, mimics the relaxed vibe of the landed gentry. Like the coastal grandma trend that is said to have spawned it, the fisherman aesthetic is really an attempt to appropriate moneyed understatement. 'I think fashion is generally obsessed with wealth recently,' says Bevan. 'There was stealth wealth, the old-money aesthetic, quiet luxury, equestrian-inspired womenswear collections. It feels like one side of this is an extension of that.' Essentially the two looks project the same vibe: tell me you're rich without telling me you're rich, even though you're not actually rich. Even that isn't the whole story: walking back from the beach, through Hastings Old Town, I am suddenly struck by the number of men my age – tourists, mostly – wearing fly-fishing vests. And they're not doing it ironically or because they genuinely aspire to the angling life, or because they're trying to project quiet luxury. They're doing it because they like pockets.
BBC News
an hour ago
- BBC News
Civilisations returns with unprecedented access to the British Museum's collection
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Across four episodes, interviews with experts, key academics and curators are combined with bold drama-reconstructions to follow the clues in these treasures that explain why each culture fell from power, and whether these relics can help us understand the risks we face today. Contributors include Dominic Sandbrook from The Rest is History podcast, artists Antony Gormley and Edmund De Waal, co-host of The Rest is Politics podcast Alistair Campbell, Radio 4's Making History presenter Iszi Lawrence and academics and authors including Camilla Townsend, Mark Ravina, Shushma Malik and Salima Ikram. Featured artefacts from The British Museum's world-famous collection include the double-headed serpent of the Aztecs, the Meroe Head of Augustus, a mummified crocodile from Ancient Egypt and a newly acquired set of samurai armour from Japan. Suzy Klein, Head of BBC Arts and Classical Music TV, said: 'A new series of Civilisations is always a significant moment for BBC Arts and this incarnation feels particularly timely in our own uncertain age. With unprecedented access to the British Museum's collection, Civilisations: Rise and Fall makes the case that museums are more relevant than ever: they are repositories of human memory, time-capsules – a crucial way for us to understand the past and how we might ensure the future of our own civilisation.' Dr Nicholas Cullinan, Director of the British Museum said: 'We were delighted to collaborate with the BBC for the landmark Civilisations series, and bring some of the most incredible objects in the British Museum's collection to the forefront in telling these global stories. I hope the series captures the imagination of young and old alike, and that we engage whole new audiences with our collection – a collection which shows how history connects us all, something which is now more relevant than ever.' Alexander Leith, Executive Producer, BBC Studios Specialist Factual, said: 'It's a great privilege to be making the next iteration of the Civilisations brand – especially in such close collaboration with the British Museum. The remarkable artefacts they hold offer astonishing points of connection with these past civilisations, and the factors and fault lines on which their fortunes turned – many of which feel disarmingly relevant to our own world. The Civilisations The Fall of Rome When new Roman emperor Honorius ascends to the throne in 395 AD he inherits a system of government that's built one of the most remarkable civilizations in history. For over 400 years the Roman Empire has ruled a vast territory that crosses three continents and encompasses a multitude of peoples and languages. Keeping this disparate whole together is a massive challenge, but decisions taken by Honorius' predecessors have opened up alarming fault lines within the system. Now a series of shocks and threats are colliding in a perfect storm that will see the weakened city of Rome fall to foreign invaders for the first time in 800 years. The Last Days of the Ptolemies in Egypt In 51 BC Cleopatra becomes Queen of Egypt – and Pharaoh – amid a crumbling dynasty plagued by infighting, betrayal, and political chaos. She navigates a treacherous web of family rivalries and Roman interference. Determined to preserve Egypt's independence, she forges bold alliances with Julius Caesar and later Mark Antony, two of Rome's most powerful men. Her reign marks both a last stand for the Ptolemaic dynasty and the dramatic end of three millennia of Pharaonic rule in Egypt. The End of the Samurai in Japan 1853 CE. For centuries, Japan has been cut off from outside influence. In that time the West, and much of the rest of the world, has made extraordinary leaps forward in science, industry and military technology, while Japan remains a feudal medieval society. At the heart of this feudal system are the samurai – warrior knights funded by the state. But when giant American steamships arrive on Japan's shores, the days of the samurai are numbered. The Collapse of the Aztec Empire 1519. Under the strong leadership of Emperor Moctezuma the great Aztec civilization reaches its zenith. The jewel in the crown is the beautiful island city of Tenochtitlan built in the middle of the lake Texcoco, a melting pot of extraordinary arts and culture - home to some 100,000 people. But Moctezuma's empire is fragile. He relies on ritual wars, gathering tribute and maintaining social and religious order through slavery and sacrifice. In doing so he has tightened his grip on the largest South American empire the world had ever seen - but he has made many enemies. The arrival of the Spanish in 1519, under Hernan Cortes, will prove disastrous for the Aztecs. Civilisations: Rise and Fall is a BBC Studios Specialist Factual Unit production for BBC Arts, with BBC Studios handling global distribution. The Executive Producer is Alexander Leith, the Series Producer is Tony Mitchell, and the Production Manager is Emma Hyland. It was commissioned for the BBC by Suzy Klein, BBC Head of Arts and Classical Music. The Commissioning Editor for the BBC is Alistair Pegg. Founded in 1753, the British Museum was the first national public museum in the world. The collection tells the stories of cultures across the world, from the dawn of human history, over two million years ago, to the present. Objects range from the earliest tools made by humans and remarkable finds from the ancient world to more recent acquisitions from Africa, Oceania and the Americas, the Middle East, Asia and Europe, as well as the national collections of prints and drawings, and coins and medals. BBC Studios Specialist Factual Productions is a bespoke unit making premium output in the history, art, music and culture space. The work is underpinned by journalistic rigour and specialist knowledge, bringing together diverse voices to ignite conversation and challenge preconceptions. Recent titles include the Grierson Award winning Inside Our Autistic Minds, the RTS winning Fight The Power: How Hip Hop Changed the World with Public Enemy's Chuck D, the true crime / natural history hybrid The Great Rhino Robbery and cold war thriller Secrets and Spies: A Nuclear Game. AM2 Follow for more
The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
Absolute creamer! Instagram star Prime Mutton takes America – with a passion for pints
You might not be familiar with Prime Mutton. Maybe you haven't heard his catchphrases – 'absolute creamer', 'muttonista', or the still-in-development 'creamerisimo'. If so, you're missing out on a man who in the space of a year has created little short of a cult: an army of more than 160,000 social media fans, including celebrities, who cheer along online and in person as their leader – basically – reviews beer. Prime Mutton, whose real name is Jason Hackett, isn't the typical social media star. He is not, with all due respect, a beautiful twentysomething posting videos that are brightly lit with nice colors and snappy edits. He's a 55-year-old professional bridge player from Manchester, with a moustache, a leather pork pie hat, and a body that, he readily admits, reflects his enthusiasm for ale. The lighting in his videos is not up to professional standards, they are rife with background noise – he films the videos in bars – and his recent experiments with fonts and emojis have frequently been chaotic. But what Prime Mutton does have is a passion: a passion for pints. That devotion, coupled with his unvarnished persona and his 'absolute creamer' catchphrase – uttered with relish when a beer meets his high standards – have been enough for him to succeed where so many Brits before him have not: he has cracked America. 'I think people, when I publish my little videos and posts, it brings them quite a lot of happiness,' Prime Mutton told the Guardian on a recent Sunday in Brooklyn. 'People, you know, wake up, they're about to go to work, or they're at work on their break, and it's something that makes them happy – and it's wholesome and authentic as well.' Prime Mutton – 'the brain in terms of knowledge of food and drink is prime; the body is mutton, in that I'm not exactly a honed, prime physical athletic specimen' – is on his first US tour, appearing in Boston, New York, Philadelphia and beyond. He has visited dozens of bars, drawing thousands of fans, many wearing T-shirts bearing his face or holding banners with the legend 'absolute creamer'. The in-person appearances, which Prime Mutton announces in advance on his Instagram, follow the same formula as his videos. Prime Mutton appears on camera standing in a bar, holding a pint of beer. He greets the visiting 'muttonistas' – a term he coined for fans, and one which they have eagerly embraced, before announcing where he is, and which beer he is going to review. Then the magic begins. Sommeliers and cicerones advise that the best way to taste wine or beer is to swish it in the glass, sniff, sip, and swill it around in your mouth to really assess the flavors. Prime Mutton does not do this. Instead, he raises his pint and takes a gigantic swig, a full four or five gulps, until two-thirds of the beer is consumed. After coming up for air, he takes a few moments before delivering his verdict. The gold standard, for Prime Mutton and his adherents, is that the beer is an 'absolute creamer'. His delivery of the phrase, which he said he picked up on a visit to Ireland, sends crowds online and in person into ecstasy. The Guardian met Prime Mutton at a bar close to where he was due to make his first appearance of the day. The idea was to have a private chat before he addressed the muttonistas. But nowhere is private for Prime Mutton these days. As we talked, a man, in his 50s, balding, with a grey beard, spotted us through the window and began to wave, hopping up and down excitedly. The man was Paul Giamatti, Golden Globe and Emmy-winning, Oscar- and Bafta-nominated actor. From outside, Giamatti motioned for us to stay in place – the man really can act – and ran out of view. He quickly reappeared with his son and hustled into the bar. He was wearing a black polo shirt which said 'Muttonista' above an image of Prime Mutton. Giamatti introduced himself as Paul. Rarely has a man looked happier. He asked if he could have a photo. 'Of course,' said Prime Mutton – and one was taken. The two men chatted briefly before a beaming Giamatti left. I asked Prime Mutton if he knew who that was. He did not. I told him it was a famous actor. 'See, that's not my world,' Prime Mutton said, but he did add that Giamatti 'seemed very nice'. Giamatti satiated, it was time for Prime Mutton to head to Hartley's bar, where about 150 people had gathered in a pub designed to hold about 30 people. The majority of the crowd had to settle for a spot outside, some spilling over into the road. Mutton was here to sample the Guinness, which he had been told was among the best the city has to offer. As we walked round the corner together, the crowd went wild. There was a primal roar, like people cheering a musician as they emerge at the Super Bowl. This was Mutton as a more conservatively dressed, somewhat heavier Kendrick Lamar – a rough and ready British interpretation of American celebrity. Inside, an area had been spaced out for Prime Mutton to taste the bar's Guinness. A hush went over the crowd as he was presented with a pint. He raised it to his lips and paused, a showman teasing his audience. Then he drank, gulp after gulp, as he drained more than two-thirds of the beer. Prime Mutton set the glass down on the bar. He smacked his lips. Foam hung on his moustache. Tension hung in the air. The crowd was now completely silent. Their entire focus was on this man, wearing a pork pie hat and suspenders, a man about to make days or crush dreams. Hairs on the backs of necks were raised. Which way would Caesar Mutton's thumb point? He paused, considering his decision. 'That's good. It's very good actually,' Prime Mutton said, but there was more. 'However, I can't say it's the best pint I've had in New York.' Hearts sank. His assessment wasn't over, however. 'But it's still so good,' Prime Mutton said, 'that I'm going to call it an absolute creamer.' An almighty cheer went up. People went wild. Men jumped up and down and hugged each other. High fives were exchanged between strangers. A woman nearly fell off a stool. The muttonistas, much like Prime Mutton's thirst, had been sated. 'He's completely endearing, and sort of what I need in my heart right now, given the state of the world,' said Nick Lucchesi, as Prime Mutton polished off the rest of his pint. 'I mean, look at him. He's smiling and kind of quite Mancunian in all the best ways.' Lucchesi had already seen Mutton once on this tour, but came back for more, cycling across Brooklyn to lend his support. 'He's certainly a wonderful bloke. I just feel like: who doesn't like a Guinness? And a nice guy dropping a catchphrase and talking about it? It makes you feel good,' he said. Others echoed the sentiment. And at a time when male influencers are frequently awful, it's true that Mutton offers something different from the rest. He's not ordering young men to dunk their heads in ice at 3.50am. He's not a misogynist, he's not racist, he doesn't belittle anyone, he's basically … not a dickhead. He's just a man, a man who likes drinking beer, who likes making his videos, and likes bringing people joy. At a time when a lot is wrong with society, when many of us have found ourselves searching for something real and grounded and normal, who wouldn't want to be a muttonista? This article was amended on 7 July 2025. A previous version said Paul Giamatti had been introduced to Prime Mutton by his son. It was actually Giamatti who introduced his son to Prime Mutton.
