Sock? What sock?

‘Archie, is that a sock I see in your mouth?’

‘No, can’t be. I don’t steal socks.’

‘I can see it.’

‘Goodness me! Someone must have slipped it into my mouth without my knowledge.’

Day Three of my B&W challenge.

Oops! How did that bit of colour get in...

PS Just been round the block with Arch. I spotted an abandoned half pallet. In the abscence of a suitable young man to carry it for me (like last time), I came home, got the car, stuffed my back stuffed it partly in the boot and took my treasure home.

Is there a name for my condition?

Is there a cure?