Tight Spot

"Oh my giddy aunt! I just can’t squeeze into any of my suits. They’ve been hanging there undisturbed, like a line of sleeping fruit bats since I threw in the towel relinquishing work. The price of a decent suit has shot up, not far off house price inflation, so how can I justify a new suit for the funeral next Friday?
Well I can’t! James was a fairly casual sort of bloke anyway and he won’t give a halfpenny toss how I look, resting in his box. My mind though, will be full of genuine respect and that’s what matters."