The shirt reads: “THE LAST CLEAN SOCK.”
Below it, a hand thrusts a single striped sock into the air in front of a burst of orange rays, with a washing line, pine trees and tents beneath.
It is the labour-poster pose again, this time in service of the final clean item on day four of a camping trip. The moment deserves the ceremony.
For campers, festival-goers, and anyone who has had to make a decision about a sock they would rather not have made.
