Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Here's the situation. There's a man who regularly pops into the Telegraph office for meetings. He's a nice guy - friendly. And you can tell that he puts an effort into the way that he looks. His suit is sharp and he obviously spends a lot of time frisking his hair up into spikes.
When I see him, I smile. When I see his shoes, I want to cry. I want to shake him. I want to slap him repeatedly in the face like they do in disaster films when the hero (me, obvs) can't get through to someone in a moment of crisis. I need to get his attention, to make him snap out of it, to save him from himself.
I want to say, "Jim" (not his real name, it's actually Paul), "you're a nice guy. Almost everybody in the office likes you. Sure, you have that excessive perspiration problem. But we all pretend not to notice it and only laugh about it AFTER you've left. It's the shoes, man. You've got a problem. We want to help you."
Here are some pictures of shoes collection by Khakan Abbasi