This article is best read slowly, in the voice of a very, very smooth lover. The kind of lover who wears a knitted mustard-colour cape and lays on an… who lays on a…. a thing. The kind of lover who gazes into the future, by which I mean the 1980s. The kind of lover who breaks your heart but in doing so makes you grow as a person. Mmm, mmm, smooth. The kind of smooth lover you one day look at, tears streaming down your cheeks and say “Look, darling, I’m crying because you left me but you were right all along.”
Lee Bofkin
Late 1900s
In Britain today, in an average lifetime, each person will have roughly fifteen lovers, a few more who are slightly rough, and over four hundred and fifty pieces of sexy, sexy knitwear.

Do you think it’s cashmerely a coincidence? Of course not darling. There’s no such thing as coincidence. Merely fate. And fate brought us together, then gave us matching cardigans. Possibly also a complimentary scarf.

Highly complimentary. Sure I’ll get you another cocktail.

Trust me, I’ve had more average lovers than most and more knitwear than anyone. But that’s ok. You like my knitwear and my knitwear… likes… knitwear too.

If it’s not clear by now, here’s the bottom line:

An average cardigan is easier to come by than a great lover. A great cardigan however, takes an average lover and makes them great. Anyone that loves knitwear knows exactly what I mean.

Feel my sleeve – it’s ok, I don’t mind.
Look at the photos. They’re the real deal. Knitted people who stood confidently and knew they could take on anything. Global warming? Hasn’t happened yet. Crumbling public services? Not on my mind. I’m just focused on being the best lover my knitwear makes me. Strong yarn, strong jaw, strong look.

Knitwear – it looks into the future and sees the past.
Happy Valentine’s Day darling; thanks for the cardigan.
Mmmmmmm. Smooth.
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