It's worse than that. There's a passing out pic on the site of a group of signallers from RMAS, IIRC. It reeks of queefery and weakness.
And in that short example, I think you have just hot the nail squarely on the difference between Offr and ORs head.
Offrs, generally having been "educated" at university will have been exposed to woke-think and the belief that it is their inalienable right to never be offended. All forms of queefery are implicitly tolerated, if not encouraged. In search of a common identity they do stupid things like wear brightly coloured Fat Face tops, cords, and high-leg yard boots in the hope that they "fit in", when in fact we just make ourselves look like tw@ts when we go out in public. In all honesty, if we were true to ourselves we'd just wear jeans, trainers, and a Super Dry polo shirt, but we daren't because that voice in the back of the head suggests some invisible cav to55er of a Maj somewhere is judging us. It's the sartorial equivalent of a seance w@nk that moderates our behaviour towards being collective bell-ends. I succumbed to it myself at one point. The ultimate expression of this dystopian future is "that" photograph which, at some point, someone genuinely thought was a good idea. FFS.
Toms on the other hand don't give a sh1t. They are what they are, love 'em or loath 'em. Having grown up in a school system most of them were bored to tears with, they just wanted to get out into the world and do something. There's no implicit pressure from a silent voice to conform to what someone thinks is the stereotype of the country male in the urban environment, or some woke value or other that they think they have to virtue signal to their superiors to get on because their immediate superiors come from the same place they did and think it's the same pile of toss they do, save for some troopy who fits the mold of a tw@t and who just gets ignored as "one of them" anyway.
It's why when you put a group of Toms together and a group of YOs together the Toms would have a picture of themselves holding a beer, wearing the footty shirt of their club, and hanging off each other having a laugh with their mates and the YOs choose to reproduce a game of silent Twister on a white backdrop in the slightly homoerotic way that made us all stand back and go "take a fukcing look at yourselves will you".