An End to Trouser Tyranny

I would like to discuss trousers. Yes. You heard me correctly. Why must everything be about writing on this writer’s blog? Since the first caveman covered his legs in leaves and declared “ooowww-ahhhhh,” mankind has been burdened with these irritating leg fluffers.

Fashion to me as is useful as the num lock on a keyboard. It is a hindrance designed to undermine self-conscious weirdoes like me. I resent others looking wonderful and attractive. I want everyone to wear electric blue sweatpants and bright orange overcoats to highlight the intrinsic absurdity of humans. Fashion is the spangly blue dildo of consumer capitalism! You must realise this! Do not kowtow to the corporate oppressors! Be DIFFERENT!

I own two pairs of ‘outside’ trousers. The first pair are black cords with slit-lines. These lines represent the fragmented nature of my soul. They are metaphors for the brokenness of things – a statement of defiance against the many ills of the world. OK, not really. I bought them in Barnado’s.

The second pair are grey jeans, tatty at the knees. They are a metaphor for the everyday struggle to succeed in a world ravaged by avarice, self-interest, hatred, bigotry and indolence. They are covered in ketchup stains because the world is a stain. They are unwashed because the world is dirty. They are a trouser protest like no other, daddio.

Despite the serious political statement I make with my trousers, I do not sit well in them. Frankly, wearing trousers is the cruellest hoax to befall mankind, apart from the shaving necessity. What I yearn for is the male skirt. Yes. Sod this exclusivity women have over comfortable, silky items that actually feel good to wear over the hips, genitals and thighs. Rise up, men of the world, and don your man-skirts!

David Beckham was the spark that caused the revolution. He had the courage to risk looking like a berk with his half-sari half-carpet arrangement. Well, let me tell you, you won’t be laughing at him in two weeks time. The revolution is coming. And it loves the legs.

You see, mankind cannot stand to wear tight belts that dig into the stomach any longer. We refuse to look like officious twats in suits, absorbing hatred from the beautiful people. We refuse to hide our hairy, glorious legs under sweaty fabrics that chafe the skin. We are MAD AS HELL and we will not take this trouser tyranny anymore!

So please, gentlemen, swallow that gulp of cynicism and burn your trousers. Raid your partners’ cupboards and respect your bodies. Don that skirt. This is a matter of integrity. Adapt or die.

Thank you.