Yoda shuddered slightly as he determinedly dragged his gaze away from Han Solo’s trousers.
He had always known, of course, the Solo was not of the bon ton – his peculiarly stilted delivery of a poorly-written line of dialogue was proof, if proof were needed, that he was not quite comme il faut.
But never in the worst depths of his opium-fuelled nightmares had Yoda imagined seeing him turn up at a chess match in PVC breeches. And before Ascot as well…. What was the man thinking?
And to make matters worse, he was apparently Leia Organa’s chosen consort. She, of course, should have known better; though Yoda confessed to himself that he bore a measure of responsibility here. If he had taken personal charge of her education, instead of leaving it to the half-wit Kenobi, he could have imparted to her the full breadth of his sartorial wisdom, forestalling any possibility of her attachment to a man in plastic pantaloons, and – who knows? – maybe even persuading her to get a decent haircut.
Something would have to be done about Solo, Yoda decided. If the trousers were allowed to pass unchallenged, heaven alone knew what offence against taste he might perpetrate next: suede shoes perhaps? Or even white socks! Yoda chuckled quietly to himself at his own silliness: louche he might be, but even Han Solo would not stoop to wearing white socks! Would he…..?
Thanks to Dollykgray for hosting Mono Monday this month; and to CH for remembering this chess set, just as I was about to give in and photograph a Danish pastry.