With an air of practised superiority, the claims officer remarked to his colleague that I was not an arbiter of style. Neither is he, for that matter. Resplendent in a shirt I can only assume he made from cheap wallpaper, he leafed through the documents in his hands with official disinterest.

Hang on a minute, I need to pick myself off the floor and bandage my ribs....

There, that's better. Now that I'm composed again, I have to say his attempt to belittle me was pointless. Hey, half the world tries to belittle me, what difference does his opinion make? The answer is not even slightly. You could argue that since I'm featuring the bloke in a blog entry, he has risen to my attention as noteworthy, but then again, I only note his presence when he says siomething stupid out loud. That's what happens when you assume camouflage.

So I'm not a fashion guru? Oh well. At least I'm not a fashion dummy either.

Trousers That Kill

I saw the headline on a news item today. Stores urged to ban killer jeans. I have this image of people screaming and running away in panic from packs of vicious flairs prowling the streets for prey.

It turns out that sandblasted jeans use a process that can cause ill effects in the sweatshoppers who make them. One thing I notice is the way this news item is designed to make us feel guilty for wearing sandblasted jeans. Why? Is it because people are dying to droves to bring these trousers, or is it because rivals are dropping propaganda to make room for their own products (which for all I know use depleted uranium scavenged from third world battlefields)

Do I feel guitly for wearing sandblasted jeans? No, not really. I'm a little tubby these days and may not look quite as fashonable as I once did, but since my claims advisors seem incapable of appreciating my efforts what difference does it make?

Oh yes. I forgot. Peoples health is being damaged by these jeans. So is eating food. So is having sex. So is arguing about which government you want. Look, if you want to help the world, then help it, and stop moaning about its handiwork. In other words, do something make the process of sandblasting jeans safer.

You might argue that refusing to buy them will pressure the makers to do something else. Surely though they'll just create a new range of trousers equally poisonous? What do you gain? Apart from a few comments about nobbly knees, that is? I say invade the country that makes them and force them to abide by modern health and safety legislation.

Civilisation. You just can't beat it.