If you want to run the labour party, you’ll need to perfect the art of dressing like your Grandad dressed himself while drunk, then sent you a 1.1 megapixel picture he took on a Nokia 3220, and then you tried to copy his outfit but you don’t have a mirror and all of your clothes are grey.
That’s the only way to audibly say, “Fuck you Tony Blair” these days and by God is Corbyn saying it loud.
Corbyn’s outfits for every occasion say, “Hey, look at me” but also, “Hey, what the fuck are you looking at posho!” Whether there’s a strike down the old mine, a policy discussion at parliament, or you’re just meeting an old Trotskyite down the Pizza Hut buffet, Corbyn has a look for you.
The use of corduroy to cover up your legs is a thing of the past. We’ve mastered the technology to wrestle corduroy in to a hat shape, with a peak that says, “You bloody try it pal! Steal my hat and I’ll punch you where the sun don’t shine!”
A shirt that says experience. A shirt that says, “Of course I remember where I was when man landed on the moon. I was buying this shirt.”
Corbyn style visual trickery at it’s finest. Wearing a t-shirt that was the colour your shirt used to be, to trick the human eye into bringing the whole look up to date. You nearly fooled us there Corbyn! Well played you old dog.
This fleece will cover you for all occasions. Prime ministers questions. Cold walks through the park. A basket for your dog to sleep in. Snuggles.