My brother-out-law (Mrs Vagabond technically isn't actually Mrs) is ...y'know ...
one of them.

Very much so. I mean - proper stuff - proper shiny copper-coloured hair, skin so white it's racist, freckles, no soul - everything.

When he bought his car, he made sure he got a ginger one - "Huzzah!" we cried - "The Gingermobile!" we declared, "Let us celebrate your uniqueness and individuality!"

Then three - count them - three - more people on his street got exactly the same model and colour in the next six months.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:42, Reply)