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Baggy pants, swagger, pencil moustache, mushroom-cut hairstyle, one earring, silver chain around neck, rap beat on an MP3 mobile phone...

Not quite what you're thinking though. Not the hood in LA or Chicago, but rather... a group of Indian-Brit teenagers in a suburb of London. The Anglo-subcontinentals, it seems, are the 'brothers' of the UK.

In a remarkable replication of cross-cultural behaviour, groups of teenage guys at a local outdoor fair whistle after a couple of desi sistahs in torn jeans, who tell them to f-off in no uncertain terms. Rival gangs eye each other suspiciously, as they huddle somber and unsmiling over samosas and a can of beer. On the London Underground, a couple of guys lounge across four seats and treat the compartment to a bit of enforced communal music.

I suppose, if you think about it, the attitude, the defiance and posturing falls out of a subconscious and trans-atlantic need of groups of minorities to belong, to stand out, to make people sit up and take notice.

Maybe there's a reason why rap and bhangra intertwine so nicely.

Nomenclature

Who, or what, inspires parents when they name their kids these days?

According to the London Metro... in the UK there are 288 Madonnas and some 1200 Tigers. Respectable so far.

But then... there are apparently 36 kids called Arsenal. (These parents have, it seems, overlooked the fact that Timothy will become Tim, and Robert will become Rob, and so on).

Counting down... there are six young boys named Gandalf.

Two young boys called Superman.

One Reebok, and one Adidas (sex indeterminate).