I wouldn't want it widely known, but on occasions my lovely wife can be quite cutting with some of her comments. Take last month. I'd just changed into my gym gear when my wife remarked: "You're not thinking of going out looking like that are you?" "Why what's wrong?" "Well for a startyou look like something the dog's brought in." "We haven't got a dog." "I was speaking metaphorically." "Not him again. Anyway what's wrong with my outfit? It's a little care worn I admit, but it's serviceable." "You've had it for over 20 years. All the elastic has gone, the knees are baggy and it's threadbare. Stop being so tight and buy yourself a new outfit. I'd be ashamed to be seen out in that one." Suitably chastised, and attracted by an advertisement that offered significant reductions on marked items, I called in to the store that has more sports gear than anyone else. I was greeted by a very friendly female assistant who asked if she could help. "I'm looking for a new tracksuit." "Certainly sir, do you have any particular style in mind?" "I'm after the young George Clooney look." "Will you be paying cash for that sir?" "Absolutely." "Then it's not a problem." Ten minutes later and wearing a new tracksuit that had the name of a wild animal printed in 10cm high 'Glo White' letters across the chest, I braved the outside world. I was looking good, and my new look was even noticed by the Bronzed Goddess who watches over the gym. So, if you see me walking down Victoria Avenue in the new outfit, don't feel apprehensive about asking me for an autograph. I'm very approachable. Yours affectionately George C (jnr).
