“RUBBISH!” I cried as my second pair of Clarks shoes to fail catastrophically on me in a month flopped uselessly around my feet this very morning. First the very suggestion of snow caused my fashionable ‘Rom Lee’ to split across the sole in December, and today the heel of a pair of natty Oxfords I had purchased from Cyrus and James Clark (Footwear) has removed itself from the base in an embarrassing and impractical fashion.
I shall endeavour to visit your Edinburgh presence at luncheon today and cause some sort of a scene, after which I shall purchase new shoes from an ALTERNATIVE HIGH-STREET COBBLER.
Yours angrily,
The Electric Interfunt, Edinburgh
BUY BETTER SHOES.
Clanks, yes CLANKS, are for the troubled of gait and spastic footed.
I suggest you head to a more discerning cobbler such as Church’s, Thomas Loake’s or even 90′s boyband staple Timberlake.
Maybe you can hunt some cats and hedgehogs and fashion your own feet covers that would be the talk of the workhouse.
Kind regards,
Simon
Merrells.
I’d gladly go somewhere else had I not developed a misplaced sense of brand loyalty to Clarks as a child. Not only would they painstakingly measure each and every dimension of my feet to the delight of my mother (always keen to avoid pinching around the toe) but the sold me some shoes which, according to their TV advert, could be used to kick evil robots to bits.
While I’ve not yet encountered a situation while I might need to kick a wicked automaton to pieces I like to take comfort in the knowledge that should such a situation arise at this point in my life I am still adequately equipped to deal with it. There is no doubt in my mind that one well-placed kick from my dandy Oxfords would immediately destroy any assailant, robotic or otherwise.
You obviously didn’t know that Michelangelo used to swearily sculpt marble with his Loake’s.
Fascinating. Perhaps the internets needs some sort of directory listing cobblers of distinction. Quite useful to a largely discerning gentleman such as myself.