[Panel 1]
[Nils]
I found another
escapist sock.
[Bell]
That would be from
your washing, right?
[Nils]
Yes. They
will do it.
I don't know what they think
they are escaping TO, though.
[Panel 2]
[Bell]
To romp in fields full
of flowers, untenanted by
smelly feet, I should think.
[Elizabeth]
It's a dangerous
world out there for
a young innocent sock.
Buses, road rollers...
Now back in the time
of the Gawain Poet,
how different it
would all have been!
Then, there were fields all
around. (And flowers, and bees.)
[Panel 3]
[Elizabeth]
Now the nearest open ground
would be a fair old trek
for a lonely sock.
[Nils]
My heart bleeds for
the poor little thing,
with its meagre belongings
in a hanky tied to a
stick over its shoulder....
On the other hand, I
don't think it would be
happy in thirteen-thing.
[Elizabeth]
Why not? Fresh air, no tumble-dryers....
[Panel 4]
[Nils]
It would be all alone! Never
finding its mate again...
[Elizabeth]
Socks were a symbol of
wealth in those days. It
would meet plenty of others.
[Nils]
Yes, but how many
of them would be
man-made fibres?
[Bell]
Why, Nils, I didn't think
you were a Sock Racist.
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