I hate suits

Gosh I like to upset people…..well when I say upset I mean challenge…..well not really challenge I mean I like to make people think…..well mostly I suppose they think about being upset if I’m honest. Nothing makes my day like knowing I have ascended the dizzying vertiginous heights of being right up someone’s hooter!

I have to admit that the real satisfaction only comes with taking a pop at authority. I never got over hating it when grown-ups told me what to do, and seeing as I’ve never really grown up, the whole world seems to be full of big people, often nowadays in suits and with personal freshness problems, telling me what I can and can’t do.

I hate suits!

There must be little boys, and little girls for that matter, who aspire to wear suits to work when they grow up. Poor, sad, deluded little mites……If they admit to this perversion while they are still young enough to effect a cure, they should be soundly thrashed daily and made to cross dress…..then they might stand a chance of being normal.

The suit is an insidious piece of attire…if it isn’t tailored it will look like crap however expensive it might be, and you will walk around looking like a pin-striped concertina. Sober middle aged middle management types will try to look trendy by adding a Simpsons tie or something equally embarrassing and will simply end up by looking complete spanners.
Let’s not leave out the women in this…….my workplace is alive with eighties throwbacks; past their sell-by date wanna-be power dressers, who try to cram their bulging muffin tops and cellulite pocked thighs into a size they might have got away with twenty years ago…..before the Haagen Dazs and 2.2 kids. Clearly in my bit of Essex no one has a reality check in the mirror before leaving for work.

In my book ditch the suits guys (and girls) they are Sooooo last century……..