Early this morning Wilson popped into the village in search of post-Xmas bargains.
A few minutes ago I found he had returned and was sitting morosely in the kitchen, clutching a pack of socks.
'What's up, matey?' I asked him brightly.
In reply he held up the socks saying, in a dejected tone, 'Do you see these? These are odd socks. But they are not ODDSIES!'
Closer examination proved this to be true. Some other unscrupulous and unprincipled (Wilson's words) manufacturer is making and selling odd socks — which are undoubtedly Wilson's invention.
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