Derived from the French verb coller, meaning “to glue.”We didn’t make it as far as the office. Gordon Rossie blasted through the automatic doors as though pursued by a tsunami. A ridiculous pair of plus fours flapped at his knees over the Fair Isle socks I’d imagined but never guessed he’d actually wear. He’d abandoned his spiked golf shoes in favour of a pair of trainers in order to drive to the gallery in a rage. Spite filled his ruddy face, contrasting with his wispy, grey-flecked hair and the pretentious goatee beard glued to an undershot chin.
He barrelled through the gallery, fear and fury blinding him to the many obstacles littering his route. Shouts and squeals rose like echoes as artists pulled their masterpieces away from his stampeding feet. My mind reduced his speed and trajec
