Oh, hi Gorman.
Look, remember last year when I wrote you that letter? You remember the one, where I told you all about the way you stepped on my barely beating heart, denying me the clothes I wanted to buy even though it was before closing time and even though I was just a shadow of myself having sat through the last Harry Potter movie. Even though as I stood on the sidewalk wanting to be let in, I closely resembled the lump of Voldemort after the destruction of all the horcruxes.
You know, that letter? Well it is (almost) exactly one year since I wrote that letter, and I thought you may be interested to know how I've been since then. Oh, hang on, no you wouldn't. I know you wouldn't because I actually wrote you a real letter, an email, to YOU Gorman, not just on Miss Soft Crab, but an actual email sent straight to your people. Yeah I toned it down a bit, just told you of the disappointing experience and you know what I got in reply? Nothing. Fucking nothing. Almost as if you don't care about your long-term, cash-dropping customers.
You know what is really interesting about that though? I haven't dropped a cent on your wares in the last year. And you know what else, based on previous years spending that is a pretty unprecedented. Yeah Gorman, I used to drop bucket loads of cents on your clothes. And now, since that incident I cannot bring myself to spend money on you. And it is not just because the overall quality and style of your clothes have dropped so significantly (though they have). And it is not just because I find the overabundance of wares and looks off-putting (though I do). It is because I don't like you. Because you treated me badly and now I can't see past that. It's not me. It's you.
There was a jumper I tried on at the start of this winter. Warm, handsome, I wanted it. And when that jumper was on sale recently for a reasonable price I seriously thought about buying it. But when it came down to it I just couldn't. It's because I don't like you. And I don't need you.