The captive nuts of the cleated soul...
Was roused from my musings over mid-life crises Rattigan-style, by partially hearing Mr T utter these words. Sounded rather deep and meaningful for him... possibly involving extreme physical and mental anguish... so I thought I'd better pay him some attention. But turned out that it wasn't anything profound. He was only talking about a potential problem regarding removal of the soles from his cycling shoes for cleaning. No soul suffered maltreatment during the routine maintenance of my husband's footwear. :-))