The Report imagines the following dialogue at Le Maison Williams:
Mrs. W.: (from depth of closet) Brian! Honestly, have you any idea exactly how many ties you have in here? There's hardly any room for half my shoes.
B.W.: (from behind newspaper): Okay.
Mrs. W: (stepping into room with fistful of silk, mostly striped and purple) What? What does that mean, "Okay"? That's not even an answer. Are you listening to me?
B.W. (peering around paper) Oh. I meant to say, I guess I forgot about some of them.
Mrs. W. : Well, either start wearing them or I'm throwing them out. And I mean it.
And so Brian Williams knots up the odd, dated looking cravat of burnished gold with incredibly widely staggered onyx stripes bordered by skinny stripes of pearl for the next broadcast of The Nightly.