Not hating the shoes.
Not hating the jeans.
Hating the latte (too milky – we hate grey coffee!).
Hating the bag (which we bet – we absolutely bet! – he carries in the crook of his arm like a footballer’s concubine).
Not really hating the top, though it’s too baggy.
Not hating the socks, which are a little quirky without being comedy.
But that big fat arse with the dolly red pants!? Hating doesn’t half cover it, just as those big red dolly pants don’t half cover his big fat arse.
Put it away, love. No one needs to see that.