I'm something of a Sherlock in my spare time nods sagely
This is without a doubt a 71 year old man named Nigel.
He lives up the road (every road has one) and you can tell his house because it's the one with the pristine Skoda in the drive that he's out washing at 6:30am every bloody morning. It also has perfectly cut grass, an immaculately maintained garden and white UPVC windows despite them looking awful on his particular house.
He's married, and his wife is a member of the U3A, the WA, the MU and the local PTA despite their only son being estranged, 48 and living down south 'somewhere'. His wife is rarely seen due to the myriad of committees and commitments she uses to be out of the house and out of his way as much as she possibly can. Her name is probably June. She has a perm she's been maintaining for 40 years and shops exclusively in Debenhams but feels over the years it's got a bit 'racey'.
Anyway, Nigel used to be a civil servant and will tell anyone who listens that his job was the most important in his department and the country has gone to the dogs since he left because the person they got in to replace him was a female graduate and 'how did they ever expect her to cope?'.
He voted for Brexit.
You'll be able to spot Nigel. He was 5ft 11 in his youth but he's a portly 5ft 9 now. If you ask him, he's 6ft. He wears the same 4 thinning polo shirts, all in different pastel shades over slack grey/ black trousers in rotation. He tried to wear jeans once when he first retired but never wore them again after June joked he looked a bit like a cowboy.
When challenged, Nigel goes an unattractive shade of beetroot and tends to shout loudest, favouring self importance over reason. This is his only weapon as, in a battle of wits, he's usually woefully outgunned.
Upset a Nigel at your own risk, they're spiteful, bitter creatures and always, always right.