Suddenly, in the dead of light, the young shoe was visited by a strange apparition of his future self.
“Beware!”, said the old shoe. “I was once like you – watertight and supple. Then that idiot stomped his way across London and back every day because he can’t stand taking the tube, and now look at me. And Christ, do I smell. Yuck. Get out now!”
Alas, the foolhardy young shoe didn’t listen. And by the time we get to May, I’ll need another pair – it’s an expensive habit.