I realized today that my wife knows me too well. We're walking around a supermarket when we pass a mother and her son (I think). The mother is maybe, early twenties and the son is of an age where you just know he's the result of a rebellious teenage fling, an overly permissive childhood or a combination of both. So the mother has the nastiest, matted gross dreadlocks you've ever seen. I've been friends with a girl with dreads, hell I've fallen asleep on the couch using them as a really itchy pillow and well looked after dreads are fine. These were not. They looked like something you could rub on a driveshaft to silence a squeak. This in an of itself is almost par for the course for the town we were in but the child was sporting them too, and not even the sort of proto dreads that don't look great, they were matted, nasty "Mum never washes her hair so i don't either aren't I cool" things. They stank. We pass them by and before I even have a chance to turn to her my wife grabs my arm and hisses through her teeth: "I know, save it for the car!"