I have taken to spending long amounts of time looking at clothes on EBay. To be honest, huge savings are rarely possible, but now and again you can secure some cool stuff. If you manage to locate an item for a fraction of the high-street-cost, chances are the there will be something terribly, terribly wrong with it. I can spend hours perusing EBay without seeing anything I like. I was excited when I came across a Galliano T-shirt for €20 (inclusive of delivery). “Galliano, the designer that makes the famous gowns,” I thought. “This is the closest I will ever get to sporting a Galliano Gown.” I was all over it. I bought the garment, knowing there was good chance something was awry. I paid the monies and excitedly awaited its arrival. Yesterday, the garment arrived in a small packet. I tore it open with my teeth like a ravenous creature with a severe hankering for fashion. I held the T-shirt in the air. It looked a little small. To Boyfriend’s annoyance, I removed my shirt in the kitchen to try on itsy, bitsy, teeny, tiny T-shirt. I put my head through the head-hole. I instantly knew it was going to be snug. I pulled the garment over my torso. It was tight. It was very tight. Picture a topless man who has had a black T-shirt image painted on his upper torso. Boyfriend’s eyes widened considerably. He agreed it was tight, but complimented my pecs. Now, without blowing my own trumpet, it didn’t look terrible. Since my food-poisoning-weight-loss, I am looking pretty good. I won’t be able to wear the T-shirt in natural daylight, but I will definitely be able to wear it to a gay bar, somewhere it is acceptable to wear your younger sister’s clothes. If I smear some margarine inside the garment, I am unlikely to have difficulty getting into it.