Mid-Life Crisis

So some men, when they are feeling as if the brow of the hill may be receding. like their hairline, into the distance, go out and buy a big fuck off motorbike on which to bring forward their ultimate demise.

Others buy a fast car, see above, but at least if they get to pull in it they don’t have to lie on the damp grass, plays havoc with the old sciatica, mind you so does trying to get your leg over in a 2+2.

Others, perhaps in posession of all their material wants, turn to matters of grooming and dress. They might dye their hair, they might take to wearing a Breitling watch, they may sport a gold chain around their neck, perhaps holding a gold sovereign against their greying chest-hair. They might start to wear clothes that people a generation younger wear to underline their coolness and hipability.

None of this fools anybody, of course, we all know that here is a person afraid of growing old gracefully.

What, then, do we make of Roger Federer at the Australian Open.

The lilac shirt goes well with the grey shorts, (that’s what he’s wearing on his bottom and not the colour of his body hair) and Fed has always been quite partial to black tennis shoes,

BUT PINK LACES?

WTF Rog, it’ll be odd socks and body piercings next.

Get a grip man.