Karlos wrote:
See a derelict tramp, his clothes in threads, his features gaunt, his appearance lacking any kind of charm or sophistication? See how he nervously clutches the last remaining rusted coins in his possession, as he leans haphazardly against the bus shelter, his odour almost physically pushing the other customers away?
That's your best mate, that is. That's who you talk to when not standing in the town square stamping your barely booted foot and shouting at nobody in particular whilst ineffectually attempting to swat some the orbiting nebula of flies.
Sadly, you haven't even spoken to him since he accused you of cramping his style...
(that any good?)
I am aware of the gentleman in question... I have it upon good authority that you go to him for fashion advice.
You think he’s really cool, he is! You steal his clothes when he’s asleep so that you have something nice to wear, if you go on a date… which you don’t, unless you count your mum…
