Born in 1920 and often hanging around the lanny with his barefoot street urchin mates later that decade, my dad once told me how a well dressed yank disembarking from one of the Cunard cruiseships remarked upon his lack of footwear stating 'Like your shoes sonny, you'll never wear a hole in them' to which my dad quipped 'I don't know, my arse is made of the same stuff and there's a hole in that'.

Bum bum.