Friends Don’t Let Friends Wear Crocs.


There are lines that cannot be crossed. There are circumstances that require definitive action, that demand you take a stand in the name of all you hold dear. I had to take that stand this weekend. A dear, long-time school friend visited Melbourne. We rarely catch up and I was excited, we went out for beer as is our wont. He turned up in Crocs.


I ordered a jug of beer. I poured, we cheersed. Eye contact. Hmm…I looked at his feet again. Pale blue plastic special shoes. I couldn’t let it go.

What the fuck are they?


He laughed.

You like ‘em?

No. Seriously, are they yours?

Maybe he’s borrowed them. Maybe someone stole his real shoes…

Yeah. They’re really comfortable.

Cunt! What have you done with Harry? Who the fuck are you?


They are the fuckedest footwear in the history of the world, I would rather have my legs cut off than wear them. They’re cuntfully ugly, they are completely anti-fashion, they are everything that is wrong with the world. When The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse come at the end of days they’ll be wearing Crocs, they’ll have shit-eating grins plastered all over their skeletal faces and they’ll be saying things like: They’re really comfortable, party’s over folks!


This is the line. This far and no further. But, I didn’t stand up. I didn’t have the heart. Sometimes you just have to walk away. I had a polite but short evening with Harry. The beer just didn’t taste right. I didn’t bother berating him on the Crocs, there was no point, he’s one of them now. I just left and deleted his number from my mobile phone. Harry is not my friend anymore. He can’t be because he wears Crocs. Anything I may once have loved in that man, every part of our friendship, died the moment he put on those aesthetically abhorrent pieces of shit.


Why do I hate Crocs, you ask? They are not real shoes. It’s that simple. They are toys. Real shoes come in many shapes, sizes and colours but they all have something in common. You can’t have a shit in them and just hose it out. I mean, you can, but there will be evidence of it. There will be something, even microscopic that would to the trained eye tell you that the shoes had been shat in. Crocs, no. Shit in them whenever you like, it just hoses out. That is NOT right and I can’t engage with anyone who lives in that world so GET FUCKED!!!


According to this article, if you’re a Croc wearing fuck-waste, you can highlight the visibility of your lobotomised shitness by decorating your crocs with all manner of colourful banality, flowers, butterflies, cocker spaniels, you name it I’ll stab your fuckin’ eyes out with it because you cast a shadow of hopelessness and arseful fuckedness on my species and I would sooner nuke the whole planet than see this rankness go any further.


According to this pile of dog shit, Crocs also are now are the medically endorsed footwear for people with type 2 diabetes. Not so fuckin’ cool now, are they? Yet another reason to despise Crocs.

Hey, are you fat as a house? Is your skeleton crumbling under the weight of your chronic over-indulgence in clown food? Why don’t you squeeze your bloated stumps into some fuckin’ rubbery clown shoes?


Crocs – you’re a fat cunt anyway, you can’t see your feet, why should you give a fuck what other people think?


Crocs – because suicide requires strength of character!


The harsh reality is that we all deteriorate with age. Gradually we lose our edge and become blurry, softened shadows of our former selves. It’ll happen to me one day too, I’m under no illusions, but hopefully there’ll be someone ready to strike me down with a cricket bat and dash my brains out if I ever start wearing Crocs. It’s the same as those hideous middle aged couples who dress in identical non-gender specific beige K-mart outfits, it’s unnecessary and unbearably shit. It shows that you no longer have an individual identity. You’ve fuckin’ lost it! When people lose their grip on reality to this extent it is time to kill them. I’ll miss you, Harry, you were my friend but now you’re just a fuckwit.

9 Responses to “Friends Don’t Let Friends Wear Crocs.”

  1. Augusto Says:

    I so totally agree. Harry sold his soul to the devil and must be eschewed.

  2. Uh, ummm, I own a pair but only wear them whilst gardening. They rinse off with the garden hose. I don’t wear them in public. They are ugly.

  3. They kind of remind me of the jelly shoe/plastic footwear of the early 80’s.

    It’s like kidney stones; all things will pass eventually. It may hurt, but it’ll pass.

    In Japan, kids love em! and stick all sorts of special decorations on them. The decorations cost more than the shoes!!

    It’s like buying a cheap pair of sneakers and then forking out 3 times as much for smiley face shoelaces 🙂

  4. note: I think they are called “Holeys” in Canada.

  5. SinisterDan Says:

    My four year old daughter wanted crocs.

    It’s long story, but I refused, overwhelming the implacable will of a little girl and of my wife.

    Now I know that I’m not alone.

    Great post.

  6. almost, but not quite, as bad as having a Facebook account.

  7. Canaduck Says:

    Um, no, I’m in Canada and they’re called Crocs here, too.

    And they’re just as ugly.

  8. Crocs eat the dead vinegar flies from under my dead Grandpa’s dead foreskin. They are the shittest shoes ever. I hate to see the glistening sweat unsoaked and laying like a layer of Buck’s ButterFish diahorrea on the feet, because some hippy cunt didn’t want to fork out the extra dough for trainers, like a normal person, and rather walk around showing everyone their hairy toes in colourful rubber shoes i wouldn’t wish on my worst-head-giving ex-girlfriend.

  9. JG Reader Says:

    crocs, they kind of look like clogs, which is very close to blogs

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