What was there to say? The man wore trousers larger than he was, by a conciderable margin! To be sure, the pantaloons themselves were exquizite pieces of craftsmanship. Balanced like a prize horse on a podium, glittering like a diamond wedged up a sun-facing nostrel, these contraptions of epic stitchery blew my mind from its calciated prison. I was dumbfounded. If I had a flabber, it would have been thoroughly ghasted.

What was there to say? Nice trousers I said.

Thanks, he said.

We went our seperate ways.


Meh.