I'm terrible with clothes. All my shirts are cheap and cheerful short-sleeve ones, generally from Asda George and Mountain Warehouse, and half of them are falling to bits. I wear cheap sandals only and have just a single pair of shoes, in black, for weddings and funerals only, that I've had for over thirty years. I don't wear socks. I have one pair of half-decent trousers, one white short-sleeve shirt and an ancient sports jacket for emergencies and I wear cheap nylon shorts all year round. I will put on a tie only at gunpoint. I never wear wool or anything with long sleeves. I've just bought a cheap winter coat for twenty quid (I haven't had one for years, but that December cold snap and my advancing years gave me a wake-up call), of the Rab type that everyone seems to wear, but their genuine Rabs cost upward of £150. I can buy seven or eight of mine for that money. I don't get it. I hate paying full price for anything but I really have to do some shopping. My size is XL, the first size of everything to sell out in the sales. I'm the kind of bloke that could put on a sharp £300 suit and immediately make it look like I've picked it up for a fiver in the Scouts' jumble sale.