Non-Conformist

Early this morning, I looked in my sock drawer to find that it contained just two socks: one blue, the other black. But you know what? I put them on, anyway. Why? Because that’s the kind of man I am. I spit in the face of society’s so-called conventions. I am a dangerous free-thinker, responsible only to myself. The opinions of others mean nothing to me. If a rule is to be flouted, I will flout it. I live on the edge, exuding a palpable air of menace that puts other men in awe and quickens the heartbeat of women.

Next, I turned to my shoes. Why, I asked myself, should I be bound by the accepted wisdom that says one should wear a matching pair? Accordingly, I put a Barker brogue on my left foot and a Church “Classic” on my right. Unfortunately, this combination proved somewhat less successful. I soon discovered that the heel on the Church is about half an inch longer than that on the Barker. Consequently, the ensemble caused me to start limping around like a land-mine victim with an artificial limb. As there are few land-mines in Hertfordshire, I might have been mistaken for some sort of spastic, so gave up on this. The socks were enough, anyway. And a lot safer.

Why safer?

Because in the same way that it’s regarded as an unacceptable faux pas for two women to turn up to a social event wearing an identical dress, I get equally irritated when I find out that a man is wearing the same socks as me. More often than not I’ll simply leave in a huff. Sometimes, however, I get so fucked off that I take him outside and kick the shit out him. I suppose, therefore, that the fact that I’m now wearing odd socks makes it safer for other men in that, dull conformists that most of them are, they’re highly unlikely to be wearing a pair that clashes with mine.

In fact, with this in mind, perhaps sock manufacturers should start to sell only odd socks. This will then make getting dressed a more intellectually rigorous experience, of course, as, henceforth, you’ll have to remember exactly which mismatched sock goes with the other to make up the pair.

On the down-side, there’s always the lurking danger that, having taken them to the launderette to be washed, you might return to find that you’ve now got a dozen matching pairs.