I work with a fellow called John Wilmoth. John wears the same jacket every day.

Well, that's not strictly true.

John wears the same jacket mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday. I do not know, nor do I have any desire to know, what John wears at weekends. All I can say with any degree of certainty is that John wears the same jacket every weekday (mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday as discussed).

John's jacket resembles a suit jacket, made from an unidentifiable fabric, with a houndstooth design. At least, I think that's what they call it. It has eight buttons that I know of (three on each cuff, two on the front) and, in a truly amazing design feature (or dazzling design flaw, depending on your opinion) a mere three buttonholes (two on the front and one on the lapel). John's jacket's physical appearance would be best described as a shapeless mess and, as I believe I have mentioned, he wears it every day.

John's jacket has three external pockets (one on each side and one at the breast) and debate rages as to whether or not it has any stowed internally. If the pockets of John's jacket contain anything, and this is by no means certain, I should imagine their contents as being akin to those of Pandora's Box. Moreover, John's jacket emits the most curious odour known to man. This odour, which has been described variously as 'sweaty copper coin', 'damp child', and 'old lady', intensifies with dampness and leads me to believe that John's jacket is perhaps made of dog hair (that of a particularly old, hairy and smelly dog). If you have ever visited the owners of a longhaired dog on a rainy day, I'm sure you can imagine something approximate to the sensory delight afforded by John's jacket.

John, it must be said, is an extraordinarily brave fellow. I say this because he has the courage to don this potentially lethal garment on a daily basis. I, for one, would not wear John's jacket, no matter how much I was offered by way of incentive or compensation.

Thinking about John's jacket (as I often do, painful as it is), leads me to imagine Philip Marlowe (played by Humphrey Bogart) investigating 'The Strange Case of the Houndstooth Terror' and the terror in question being none other than - wait for it - John's jacket. In fact, I am certain that not only has John's jacket inspired and appeared in numerous horror movies, but also that it has inspired the likes of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, H. P. Lovecraft and G. K. Chesterton to write their wonderful works of mystery, evil and intrigue. It is a little known fact that The Hound of the Baskervilles was inspired by John's houndstooth abomination. I can imagine being stalked by the jacket and fleeing, terrified, over a misty moonlit moor.

I believe that, if I were an author, I would call my first novel John's Jacket. It would be the riveting, suspense-laden tale of a simple lass who falls in love with a feckless, yet gentle, dullard, unaware of the dark secret lurking in his wardrobe. Each night, when she falls asleep, the dullard would creep to the wardrobe and unleash evil by donning John's jacket. It would transform him into an evil, maniacal parody of his gentle nature, a sick and twisted barbarian whose only joy is the suffering and misfortune of others. Eventually, she would discover his dark secret and confront him with it. He would be torn between the love of his pretty, though foolish, wife and the awesome, yet evil, power afforded to him by John's jacket. The novel would end with the gentle dullard discarding the jacket in favour of his beloved imbecile, only for the jacket to be discovered by a wandering tramp who would vow to seek revenge on the imbecile on behalf of John's jacket, thus leaving room for a sequel if necessary. I would of course mask John's identity should my work be published, lest the terrible secret of his jacket's existence be made known to the populace at large.

John has just read my manuscript. While he is delighted at the level of interest I take in his apparel, he is concerned that I have been factually inaccurate throughout my narrative. For that I apologise. John, in fact, wears a sports coat each day. A sports coat. Quite what type of sportsman's performance might be enhanced by the wearing of this jacket is beyond me.

Anyway, I stand corrected. John wears the same sports coat every day. Well, that's not strictly true. Johns wears the same sports coat mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday. I do not know, nor do I have any desire to know, what John wears at weekends. All I can say with any degree of certainty is that John wears the same sports coat every weekday (mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday as discussed).

John's sports coat resembles a suit jacket, made from an unidentifiable fabric, with a houndstooth design. At least, I think that's what they call it. It has eight buttons that I know of (three on each cuff, two on the front) and, in a truly amazing design feature (or dazzling design flaw, depending on your opinion) a mere three buttonholes (two on the front and one on the lapel). John's sports coat's physical appearance would be best described as a shapeless mess and, as I believe I have mentioned, he wears it every day ...