I’ve been waiting until I was in the shite and wheezy camp to repost this — it’s the only good part of getting sick — but Malcolm’s snuggly fleece always makes me feel loads better.
I mean, just look at him strutting into the office with his hands in his fleecy
pockets all happy and smiley and relaxed from stabbing Steve Fleming in
the back (while clearly also showing the influence of spending time with Julius what with the highly specific attention to extraneous extra detail) and not caring at all that he looks like a suburban dad out
running errands — proving once and for all that he doesn’t need a suit to have authority.