"I dressed especially for you" Breakfast Club Boy says, his coat still firmly in place as he takes a seat on Surfer Girl's sofa.
A not-so offhand comment of mine which I made a few weeks ago about the dress sense (or lack thereof) of the male contingent of The Writers has spiralled out of control. After what has probably amounted to hours of questioning (and a few lessons on the difference between fashion and style*, and then the difference again as to looking like you've just stepped out of TopShop, coathangers and all) the majority of the boys have accepted that, in their current states, they are not going to persuade me of anything different. Breakfast Club Boy, however, has taken it as a point of contention.
I sense immediately that I am not going to be presented with an outfit out of a Burberry advert.
He opens a couple of buttons and pulls his coat aside.
I blink. Breakfast Club Boy's shirt looks like someone has drunk copious amounts of Ribena and then vomited on him.
"Tie-dye!" He exclaims throwing his coat off in the process.
My hand automatically reaches up to my mouth in case I vomit.
"That..." - There is a pause as I attempt to sum up exactly what is in front of me - "is hideous".
"Oh, that's not all".
There is, I am quite sure, far too much excitement on his face. It is almost indecent.
He lifts up the Ribena Vomit shirt and my retina bursts.
"Tie dye on top of tie dye!"
The second shirt is, if possible, worse. Rather than just Ribena it looks like someone has ingested the entire contents behind the bar at Evil Eye before vomiting on him.
"Where...how..?" The words sort of slip out, unable as I am to process that someone would willingly own, let alone wear, such items. And, worse still, wear them together.
"They were presents". There is a kind of pride to the assertion.
"And you wear them?". I can hear the highness of my voice, I am about to reach the place where only dogs will be able to hear me.
"Oh, yes". He stretches his arms out so the tie-dye spreads out and I wonder if I am to lose my sight. "An ex-girlfriend of mine gave me an ultimatum about them - either her or the tie-dye. And, well, it's the tie-dye that's still here".
I can't help it. "I would be much more subtle than that".
As I speak he is already in the process of taking the first shirt off. I realise that the sleeves to the second shirt are different colours.
"Oh, I know you would".
The tie-dye reflects oddly against his hair. He seems blonder than I have ever considered him to be.
"They might go missing...or an accident...you know how these washing machine incidents happen...". I wonder if, over the course of the evening, I might be able to arrange an accident anyway, lest I have to spend the next twenty four hours with him wearing these clothes and thus go blind.
Breakfast Club Boy looks directly at me and I know I'm busted. "Don't think about it - I'll be keeping my eye on these. Anyway, I know you're just jealous - I'll have you wearing tie-dye".
With that he throws the Ribena Vomit shirt so it lands on my head and, for the first time ever, I have tie-dye next to my skin. I expect I shall get a rash.
*Or what I termed as 'Kate Moss' vs 'Audrey Hepburn'. And Hepburn would win every time.