Mr Twit wheehoozelled his way through town on his bike. Young people sat outside cafés, drinking strange green drinks, and seemed to be enjoying them.
“Mmm, pond slime,” thought Mr Twit enviously.
Then it struck him. These people – they looked like him. They had straggly beards. They wore raggedy trousers. And they drank weird drinks, full of algae and grass clippings.
His mind rumbled. His heart grumbled. His temper soared like a dirty vulture.
“What, in the name of all that is filthy, is going on?!” screamed Mr Twit.
“Everyone seems to have turned into me!”