First off, we have this beautifully arrogant arrangement. If we were playing bullshit bingo, this coat would have it all. Wolves, snow, trees and moon. Fuck me, this is a winner.
On a side note, it would seem that the bystanders to this bint are distracted by the wares available on the stall in front. Well I have it on good authority that concealed from view is an outdoor lap dancing venue for voles and gerbils. The sick bastards!
Next up is this blue Brighton belter!
Once again, the wolfcoat photographer has been cool enough to conceal the wearer’s identity (as mentioned in a previous post, this is a dangerous business – see goat).
Anyway, back to this wolf wearer’s story… It would seem that this wife’s hubby is bemused at the lack of tarragon in the trolley. But little does he know that Tesco Extra doesn’t sell fucking tarragon and that they now have to go all the way to posh fucking Sainsbury’s for their perennial herb…
