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M has been playing dress-up in the assortment of Nice Clothes he has, testing out wedding suitability; we bought a white tie he will probably subject to his cunning screen printer, though we find ourselves hampered by the fact that M has worn a tie once before ever and I haven't worn one since upper-sixth and, sat behind him on the bed, took several attempts to put it on him right.
The problem is that M is shaped like a rugby forward and, when put in Nice Clothes, just looks like a movie gangster. Now all we need is a couple of black fedoras and my brother...
The problem is that M is shaped like a rugby forward and, when put in Nice Clothes, just looks like a movie gangster. Now all we need is a couple of black fedoras and my brother...