Why I'm The Stig, bitch!
Yeah, that's right! Me!
Or so says the t-shirt anyway.
I mean yeah… it's a t-shirt… and it's probably full of shit… like when guys wear those shirts implying a barrage of sexual activity is their life and they're barely getting by with head jobs from the local cockroaches who scurry across the floor.
My apologies for that image. I'm tired and my level of cynicism isn't quite what it normally is (worse than usual) around this time of night.
Still, the shirt has a good tag…
They didn't fit because The Stig is his own breed of animal.
Some say he lives on a moon in a not too distant galaxy and that if you ask him for an autograph, his white suit erupts into a giant lawnmower and turns your body into shards of stuff.
All we know is… he's called The Stig.