I take the high road, he takes the low road

I bit the bullet a few days ago and shelled out herds of cash for a new pair of boots. I was going to get wellies, but was seduced at the last minute by an offering from my old friend Dr Marten. A nice pair of calf-length black leather boots to keep the wind and water out while riding the Beau Jolly.

The next morning it started to rain, and I was feeling a bit less upset about the hole in my wallet as I headed north on the Hollywood Freeway, aka Roosevelt Rd. Suddenly, my reverie was disturbed by the slap of flat feet through the puddles as I waited at the lights. I looked around to see this wild-eyed panting maniac yelling “see you, Jimmy” and glaring at me through his tartan helmet.

It’s not allowed to ‘out’ people on Forumosa, so I can’t say who it was, but the Hibernian pillock was pushing a motorbike that is the same as mine in most respects - except that this one a) is plastered with Hello Kitty stickers, and b) has run out of petrol and the nut behind the handlebars is too stubborn to take advice from people about how to fix it. So there he was, running down the street, skirts flapping, pushing his bike, shouting “vroom vroom, freedom” like some modern-day Braveheart wannabe who’s late for the battle, and looking for someone to pick a fight with.

“See you,” he cried. “I saw that jacket and wondered who it was, but it could only be you. Och.”

Obviously he was referring to the fact that I choose to be visible to other drivers, rather than take refuge in a tartan composed entirely of greys and muddy browns, but who am I to be worried by his highland envy? I just smiled serenely and glanced at his wet feet, which were encased in a pair of puffy trainers. Then I casually held out the glistening leather to be admired, turning it from side to side before his wide eyes and intoned gently “Read 'em and weep, MacGuffin!”

The poor deluded haggis-eater didn’t get the point though. He just said “how much?” and so, for him, here’s a quote from Terry Pratchett:

[quote]The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while a poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.

This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socio-economic unfairness.[/quote]

I love putting rebellious Scots in their place. Kiss the boots, you Grampian Git.

All this coming from a man who I’ve never known to spend more than NT$150 on an article of clothing that isn’t orange. You can imagine my surprise, therefore, when the sassenach jaffa rolls up, his extremities clad in a pair of expensive if singularly unattractive shoes – a bit like seeing a skip-diving street person who’s found himself a brand-new hat or glove – the incongruity elicits a response, usually. I imagined that by asking the price I’d catch him out and would enjoy for a fleeting second his embarrassment as he squirmed before awkwardly mumbling something along the lines of “dunno. Found 'em,” or “dunno, someone took pity on me and gave 'em me.”

Also, he kind of sticks his bum out when he rides his bike, which completely detracts from the boot thing, if he but knew it.

I think I’ll stay steer clear of this guy if ever I happen upon him. thanks for the tip there L :notworthy:

Yeah, thanks for the “heads up”, Loretta. When you see someone like that trying to jog up to you, well, that’s what second gear is for. :moped: :nyah:

I noticed there was a recent thread on how to “watch out for foreign-friendly females” or some such nonsense. This is infinitely more practical.

Please, tell us more about those boots . . . Spare no details.

The beauty of the booty, can only complement the beauty of the booties.

And anyway, you gimboid, I deliberately didn’t use your online name so that you could remain anonymous. Now you’ve gone and outed yourself. Jojo must be mortified. Get with the program, will you? Sit ON the bike, new boots and panties*, with the sporran on the outside, and stop making a fool of yourself on the intraweb.

For anyone else observing this ‘conversation’, it took Sandman 76 years of procrastination to have his first baby, four years of prevaricating before he bought a new motorbike (which only happened in anticipatory imitation of me anyway), and now he’s discussing his very limited options in the footwear department. Meanwhile, it’s pissing down out there. It’s bloody freezing. [color=#FF8040]Any bloody haggis that wants to make fun of my nice warm jacket better make sure he’s beyond reproach. [/color]

Honestly, you would have to be a complete retard to tool around in this weather dressed like you’ve just swum across the Cairngorms with a shoal of huskies and things are bit too tropical around here for your liking. I mean, really, does anyone else here think that an open shirt and gold medallions are appropriate for a superannuated crofter with pierced nipples when the weather conditions are worthy of the arctic? Cover yourself up, and get some proper boots before you catch your death of cold.

I know you get off on those stories of trout fishing on the Edinburgh glaciers wearing nothing but a condom, and other people may be impressed to know that you won the ‘Across the Lochs’ BMX endurance race (senior category) - subsisting on nothing but porridge and Stones Ginger Wine for 11 weeks - three times in the 1970’s, but you’re a bit past all that now. You need to wrap up, stop worrying about what colour my clothes are, and try to avoid dying of pneumonia before the spring thaw.

*Thanks, Ian.