My camo clothing fits me in shapeless splendour,
 I wear oversize to disguise my figure, to hide, to bulk up, to cover my peacock colours and to sadly drab down and my patterns are made for far-away conflicts, fought in foreign inhospitable regions by foreign military and corporate masters and I blend into the deserts of Kuwait or Iraq or Afghanistan, I blend into the jungles of Vietnam and Colombia or the frozen wastes of the Arctic and my green NATO jacket, fur-hooded, is ubiquitous in this urban environment and I am already half-dressed for war and casting about for the most appropriate places to fit in and I am already half-dressed for war, thanks, half-dressed for conflict, ready to compete and do battle and we are legions and big data subsets and socio-economic tax brackets and we present as an army of misfits,
untrained and rag-taggle, memorable for
 our ability to just disappear, to move like fish in the oceans and seas, invisible from certain angles, schooling for protective and collective security.