It suits you sir

I’m the kind of person who believes that if a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing properly. This is most likely why I keep finishing second in races and why I really don’t care when people get pissed off with me when I don’t do what they asked me to do at work.

On the other hand, when people give me responsibility and show faith in me, I like to pay them back by doing a good job. For example, when my brother asked me to be the best man at his wedding, I took that role very seriously. I spent literally weeks working out how best to humiliate him in the speech. I also spent months planning an elaborate surprise stag do that involved a sting operation, a flight over to Dublin, spending time in a prison cell, a chauffeured and siren-assisted drive from the old bill to a hotel, Irish dancing girls and various other details that have been either blurred by alcohol or deliberately erased from my memory on the grounds of legality.

The reason for making such an effort is because this is something that (hopefully) will be a once in a lifetime thing and I wanted it to be memorable. It was much the same when I proposed to beloved. I wanted it to be something she would remember for the rest of her life so, knowing she loves her castles and history, I took her to a castle she’d wanted to visit for years, picked out the most romantic spot, got down on one-knee, whopped out a correct-sized ring and asked her if she wanted to ruin her life by spending the rest of it with me. Fortunately she’s completely insane and said yes.

Of course both of these events led to weddings and a wedding means doing something that I really hate: Wearing a suit. Apart from the fact that they remind me too much of having to wear a school uniform which I despised because I detested school, I also think suits are stupid; They look ridiculous, they are uncomfortable and they just piss me off.

Let’s break this down into the items that make up a suit. Firstly, the tie. What is the point in wrapping a bit of silk around your neck? Other than erotic bedroom games and strangulation (or a combination of both if that’s your cup of tea) I can’t think of a single purpose for it. Shirts are irritating for a number of reasons. Firstly because the only shirts designed for non-fat people these days have collar buttons that are so tight it cuts off the circulation to my head. Secondly because they are mostly white and I am one of these people who will always spill something down myself if I am wearing white. The only time I won’t is when I’m wearing black, in which case I guarantee I’ll find white power of some sort to spill down me. Also, why is the material on shirts so thin? It’s fine on a cold day but at weddings – which are usually held in the warmer summer months – I find myself sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop and the material is so thin, I have to spend the rest of the day hiding rather unattractive wet patches which means I have to wear the stupid jacket.

Now, the jacket is ridiculous for a number of reasons. Apart from the fact that the combination of the white shirt, tie and dark jacket makes me look suspiciously like a lanky penguin, why in the name of holy sweet hell do they insist on sewing the damn pockets up? Seriously, pockets were invented for a reason and that reason is to put things in. Designing something with pockets and then sewing them up is a bit like inviting Kiera Knightly to spend the night and asking her to keep her clothes on.

The other pointless thing about suits is the only pocket that isn’t sewn up is in the chest. And that pocket isn’t big enough to fit anything in unless it is something you fold into a very tight ball and you can’t really do that unless you want people to think you have had a botched sex change operation. So someone decided the best thing to do was put a handkerchief in it. Not a handkerchief that you can use to blow your nose with. Just a handkerchief for show.

Shoes are another nuisance for me. I only feel comfortable in trainers and running shoes because they are light, airy and comfortable. Smart shoes are almost as uncomfortable as listening to a Cheryl Cole album. I find them uncomfortable to the point of being painful. They are noisy and make me sound like a horse trotting and they are often outright dangerous on a slippery surface.

Sadly, however, I recently had to buy a suit for an undisclosed reason. Now, it is common knowledge that I have a problem with shopping generally so shopping for a suit was always going to end badly. Suits, in case you are unaware, are stupidly expensive and I refuse to spend that sort of money on something I can’t live in. Having rejected everything and offended the staff in all the shops I went into, I decided to be extremely un-cool and buy one from Tesco for a price that didn’t involve me needing to find a bead counter. However, when I got it back home, I found the plastic security tags were still nailed through the button holes. Fortunately I have just had a fireplace installed in the living room and because it involves the need to chop wood, it therefore also involved purchasing an axe.

Of course, the problem with owning my own suit is now I have to get it cleaned properly. Apparently most suits can’t be machine washed so you have to get them dry cleaned. I am convinced that dry-cleaning simply involves ironing them, spraying them with Fabreze and folding them up neatly in cling film.

Naturally I can’t be bothered with any of this which is why at a recent black tie event, I turned up in trainers, black jeans, a white t-shirt and a picture of Yingluck Shinawatra in my chest pocket.