“It’s going to be cold tonight” I said. “What are you going to wear?”
“What am I going to wear?” he said incredulously. “I don’t know, whatever’s clean. I haven’t given it much thought. Bad enough being dragged to Michael Buble – now I have to plan an outfit?”
Humph I said. And proceeded to explain the layers I was going to pile on and how I was finishing up with my new grey military jacket.
“Oh that’s handy” he said. “I’m wearing my grey jacket too.”
“The kind of military one?” Now it was my turn to be incredulous. “What? But you can’t! Then we’ll be matching.”
“Yeah, so?” he said, deadpan. “It’ll be nice.”
I flew into a rage. Racing to the wardrobe I proceeded to list the many and varied types of jacket that he could easily substitute. Army! Leather! Biker! Suede! There were tons of them.
“Wear one of these” I begged. “You don’t care what you wear!”
“Suddenly I do” he said.
“Aaaagh” I screamed “You’re driving me mad.”
He kept this up until the taxi pulled up outside and then materialised in a leather jacked. He’d never any intention of wearing the grey one. I can’t tell you the names I called him but the air was blue.