Nothing screams erectile dysfunction like a diamond encrusted Rolex.
In my vast experience of travelling round the globe and my exposure to the well heeled, I have come to the conclusion that it takes a certain type of man to sport a watch the value of which would feed several villages in Sudan for two years.
They are of a sad, and certain age, needy of ego and with erections propped up by Viagra & carbon based stones. Some have emerged from communist China with newly found capitalist bank accounts and they want everyone to know it. Occassionally they are Hip Hop gangsta rappers who believe that extra bling will function as a light source if ever marooned in the wilderness. Certain Queensland property developers have also been known to sport the links of time & tack.
Sometimes that are very minor members (and have minor members) of a Middle Eastern Royal family riding on the coat-tails of their Oxford educated cousins.
But the common belief they all seem to hold, is that once blinded by the eye burning reflections from all that gold, crystal and diamond, young, leggy and gormless women will love them for themselves. Did I mention the moon is purple with green spots?
Tasteful and discreet is best when it comes to wristwear. One should wear a watch, not the watch wear one.
Off to rummage for some Callebaut chocolate in the pantry.
I will be pondering these and other puzzling issues of good form later this month in Sydney, Australia.
Or catch me on Twitter.