Apparently, there are some people who still adhere to this outdate mode of crease removal, rather than go about all scruffy lookin'.
There are those that iron their shirts, there are those that even iron their pants, but a triplicity of strange smoothifications is going on.
Ironing SOCKS? Surely this is one item that doesn't need stiff creases in, digging into your calves and denting your slippers. Mayhap the ironee in question misheard his missus when she said "Do some ironing and get sex". Who knows?
Ironing BEDSHEETS? Surely the second you get into bed and start tossing about they just get all creased instantly... as opposed to tossing off in bed and staining them instantly, requiring further washes and slaving over a hot iron.
Ironing TOWELS? In the first place, they're all fluffy and would surely melt into a pool of wooly goo with the application of a steam heated slab of silverplate! It's as bad as ironing your mohair big fat wooly jumper!
And jumpers, I'm led to believe, are modelled by Daves in the basement of Debenhams, where collegues are confused about the protuberance of manteats. Seems that a certain savory fellow is most perplexed by in-store male models moob nipple definition upon a jumper, leaping out at him and poking out his eyes.
Clearly the fool just needs to wear one of them padded bras to absorb any potential nipdef shining through.
Bras for men! It's getting beyond a joke now! First panties becomes manties, and now brassieres are bras-he-wears!
And next, these 'empowered, independent wimmin' are throwing their hands up at me, and commanding Man to iron their baphangers!
Ironmonger?
Ironminger, if you ask me!
