I guess you could say that Steve and I had our first domestic dissagreement on Saturday. Steve, by his own estimation, has about 60 pairs of Boxer shorts, he is the Emelda Markov of said underwear. For a while now I've been suggesting he might want to throw the worn out pairs away, but little did I know how fond he can be of slightly nasty ribbed, discoloured (he washed them with a red Tshirt) Ben Sherman (I mean how much more towny can you get) Boxers...
I was helping him hang out his washing when HE suggested that I could help him seperate the wheat from the chaff. I was pretty delighted as some of his boxers are beyond worn out. I quietly started suggesting this pair and that and when said Ben Shermans came to the top of the pile Steve looked outraged at my disstaste.
"These are my second most expensive boxers ever! They're designer!"
"They're disscoloured"
"Only on the wasteband"
"You mean the bit people see"
"They're really comfy"
"They're gross"
"I'm not letting you"
He was close to stamping his foot. I mean, if you don't want my opinion, don't ask me? ;)