It’s as if my mission brief was to stop my wife ever having a feeling of sexual desire for me again
I would never have described myself as vain. When I got my first standup spot on television, I returned home to find my wife and mother waiting to stage a hair intervention, immediately taking me to get it cut. I had apparently left it so long that my wife described my look as “recently released political prisoner”. Similarly with clothes: once we had children, I discovered that anything nice had a life expectancy of about an hour before one of them smeared ketchup, snot or a concoction that could only be identified by sending it to a lab, all over it, sometimes accidentally. So, for a long while, I just gave up on wearing nice stuff.
Since then, I have started to get my hair cut more frequently and make a sartorial effort. My wife would argue that I have gone too far the other way, as it is fair to say I have developed something of a trainer addiction. I recently wore a box-fresh pair of Yeezys to Chessington World of Adventures, which my wife and kids insisted would lead to the day being ruined by me crying over getting any kind of mark on them. Yeezys are the only fashion item I have ever possessed where, before deciding whether to wear them or not, I have to check the news to see if the designer, Kanye West, has said something twattish.
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