Comic Con hit New York in all its Cosplay finery this week, but, as in previous years, there were varying degrees of commitment on display.
While tacitly acknowledging the imagination and effort people put into this, I’m just going to move straight through into mocking the sartorially challenged and wildly misled.
You know, like I usually do.
Could literally have got out of bed, punched a dude, pinched his boots and taken a wrong turn on the way to Ikea.
Looks a bit rubbish at a glance, but a seasoned Cosplay wrangler will note the impressive effort to harness several decades of popular culture in one barely there outfit.
I’ve got Captain Caveman, Stig of the Dump, Spartacus and Cecil the Lion already, and I’m rubbish at this.
“I think Sir, if you check the entry requirements, a degree of faithfulness to the original character is encouraged. This is no place for improv.”
Let’s be honest, you’re never going to go wrong as Velma from Scooby Doo, are you?
Oh, come on, mate. We can see what you were going for but you might just as well have spent the night drinking pints of cider and black and hokey cokeying your way round your local goth club’s dancefloor to Gene Loves Jezebel.
“You bastard. You swore this was fancy dress.”