Do they even wear boxers?

It wasn't until I stepped up that I realised I'd put my boxers on back to front. The bloke next to me tried to start up a conversation: Alright? How's it going? Like he cares, he shouldn't be talking anyway, it's against all the rules of engagement. My reply is usually mumbled anyway, but the added confusion of an impenetrable cloth barrier meant that I didn't actually say any words, just a vague uncomfortable murmur of noises: Gablimeerraugh, yeh, flip, sytupoed, nuhbad. I stared at the corner of a tile and was silent.

Still my pride was restored. I was walking round the office, and everyone was saying hello to me, in increasingly animated ways. "Jono!". Hi Mike. "The Jonster!". Hmm. "Jono-o-o" (My very own football chant). Yeh, not bad. It was like being in a film, I was so excited, I even got an apprentice to join in. Andy, say hello to me. "What?" Just say hello to me. "Hi Jono". Hey there! Peow Peow went my hand pistols, blow the smoke off the tops, then return them to the hand holsters.

I am the dog.

The dog, with his boxers on back to front