young fogey

twenty-something male who apes the dress (tweed suits, waistcoats, gl-sses, hats etc) and intellectual tastes of the “old fogey” generation.
“this trendy fashion for young fogey-ism must be stopped immediately! if i see one more young man parading around in his grandad’s suit and sounding like the only-begotten son of stephen fry and morrissey i shall leave england forever!”
1. as described above by nupe. young folk getting about like old folk, albeit in a mannered, genteel way.

2. (australian) someone of a young age (perhaps under 35), who has views more alike of their grandparents, especially if those views are the hardbitten and hateful type that are fomented by those who perceive themselves as left behind, despite being a part of a social majority, such as white, anglo-celtic, lower-middle and working cl-ss baby boomers. particularly those who have subscribed to the right-wing conservative political views of pauline hanson (i.e. simplistic (and often vengeful) solutions to social problems, economically and socially conservative, reactionary rather than visionary, myopically nationalistic and eternally suspicious of other).

when these views are harboured by someone of generation y, these are considered somewhat aberrant and negative, which earns them the t-tle of “(being a) young fogey”, as these embittered views would be more expected of their old fogey grandparents.
braidyn and oliver are both labourers working on an iron ore minesite in western australia’s pilbara region, sitting in a donga having dinner . both are aged 19, thus gen y. oliver’s typical: he couldn’t give much care to sociopolitical issues, pleading ignorance, whereas braidyn must have sat on his cranky grandpop’s knee too long…

braidyn: “i reckon those criminal b-gg-rs oughta get shot on sight if they get caught floggin’ from someone’s castle…bring back cane floggins! works in singapore! better still, bring back the death penalty, like now, ay!”

oliver: (rolls eyes, completely non-commital to the views expounded) “yeah. whatever, pal.”

braidyn: “your ignorance is sh-t, mate…what wouldya say if it was your home being robbed, ay? a stint in the army would sort you out, ay! too bl–dy right, ay! bring back national service!”

oliver: “like you’d go…i reckon you’d find an excuse not to serve.”

braidyn: “well, we don’t got it, so i guess i’ll never know, ay! besides, much better money on the mines! but bring on conscription! aussie! aussie! aussie! oi! oi! oi!”

oliver: “ah, geez, braidyn, there you go again, being such a young fogey! why don’t you just take a chill pill and, y’now, um, just enjoy making some mega moolah, like now?”