Afternoon Style Mongers. The Sunday Time Style recently ran a piece on 'Death of The Three Piece', and blamed Matey-off-the-Telly-O'Leary and exposed Boy Band Tax Swindler Gary Barlow for it. Said too tight and too shiny and wrong for summer. O'Leary was in dapper puppy tooth wool in November in the shot they printed. Death of the three piece, pah! Cha, Sunday Times man. Step from me. What do you actually know? I ushered in the super-stylish use of the three piece. I'll usher the bloody thing out when I'm ready. Is that clearer?

Max Romeo- One Step Forward, two steps backwards.

Three piece stands. Despite what style commentators of the 'Beard-Gnome on a mackerel-line dinghy trip' school of thought say, the three piece is still looking good when styled well. Best without a Derby* though, right style chubsters? Chub-step! Just came back from a fitting with my boy Luke Evans. Oh my word he looks good in Sexton and Sweeney, three piece included, yes. Looked like Richard Burton in Donegal three piece. Double distinguished. Hitting the NYC & LDN Premiers of Dracula Untold (click) with these looks, a striking contrast to the after office drinks stances so many/all actors get inserted into by big designer blands. Cant believe what utter pony they're given. Pony shirt collars ties/tie knots, shoes and everything. Look like they're off to manage a mobile phone shop. These actors cant actually care, all credit to them. We care. For Evans we devised looks also for Bulgari do and Graham Norton in those two tailors. Have a look at Evans then and see. Oh yes, we care. He looks strong in both DB and three piece. Worked with Drakes camel cashmorello shirt and new tie, A&S hound-tooth hanky, J.M.Weston shoes, as per. See O'Leary weekend nights soon for more exemplary three piece tailoring style and fashion, as per.

Thom Sweeney Donegal unstructured three piece. Well comfy.

Friday night went to the fashionable Hunger magazine launch with The Wrong Writer (click) . We had to make-shift queue jump. We felt well dislocated. Queues for everything insight with no sight of an actual party, just idiot young people milling with no intent, no idea what they're there for. Perhaps a glimpse or echo of some 'Tribute Hedonism', as The Wrong Writer puts it. Lost in queuezik. Holden wouldnt even allow me a Dirty Burger. I'll give you dirty. We fled shortly to acquire Stripes in bags. Fled to get Street Feast stamps to purge our Hunger printed hands. Now Street Feast is good, young and modern (peck). Loved. No queuing. I can't queue at my age. Simply cannot. I jumped the queue at Vogue Fabrics the other night, only to be pulled on the matter later by a young female reveller. Yes I did just walk to the front, kiss the door-tranny and breeze in Miss, but as you can see, I've not got long left.

Stubbs out.

PS. This isnt the real post. Thats yet to come. Last Flight of The Griffin.

*Derby Kelly, belly.

Two Stripes in the night.

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