I never look at what people are wearing (which is a lie, as I do love to see tight jeans on...no, Stevieboy, don't go there...), and, though I've lived here for thirty years, if you asked me what colour my bedroom carpet is, I'd have to go upstairs and have a look. I do look at my own shoes, but only to check whether I've walked in dogshit. I read a thing somewhere recently that once you get to 65 you no longer need to give a damn. Well I've been like that since I was 18 and it hasn't affected the number of girls I've had. Just the one. But she doesn't half moan about how scruffy I am. How can I help it though? I'm one of those blokes who can make the snazziest new pair of £200 Levis look like I just picked 'em up from the Boy Scouts' jumble sale for two quid....