Dear Man in Local Shopping Centre

Saw you wearing that Celine Dion T-shirt of yours today. Yep, that’s right, a Celine Dion T-shirt. A T-shirt with a picture Celine Dion on the front, and the words “Celine Dion” plastered next to it.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but generally one wears a T-shirt to give other people an idea of the kind of person you are - what makes you tick, the inner workings of your personality, or to share hilarious pieces of wisdom like how great beer is or that fact that "it won’t suck itself". It was at this peculiar juncture that I found myself pondering precisely what sort of a person would feel the urge to share the fact that they’re a Celine Dion fan with anyone besides their own sweaty palm in the privacy of a darkened room.

I thought for a moment you were joking, perhaps concocting some kind of supreme irony beyond the comprehension of conventional humourists. Then I took a glance at your hapless little face and realised that there was no such frippery at play. You genuinely were a true-as-day, real-life Celine Dion fan.

What a massive cunt you are, sir.

Regards,
Davis.