Dedicated Follower of Fashion

Pants. Not the word our Merkin cousins across the water mistakenly use for trousers, but underwear.

I'm sorry, but I have to ask: what in the name of Unholy Lucifer and all his Demon Hordes is going on with men's underwear?

I was finally forced to admit defeat and accept that I was going to have buy some new pants, the old faithfuls being now in the final stages of disintegration.

There's a choice now? When the fuck did that happen? And more to the point: why?

For as long as I can remember, there have really only been two options where men's pants are concerned: boxers or briefs. Frankly, I have no idea why they even bothered making them in different colours.

Gentlemen, let's be honest. We've never cared about our pants. The only time we ever even think about the damn things is if there's a chance that a lady might see them. If you're at that stage with a woman, only two things really matter anyway: that they are a) clean and b) free of holes.

That's it.

So when did some metrosexual marketing department fuckwit decide that we needed a choice? A variety of styles? Different cuts? Fits?

What's next? Fucking frills?

Or are we now pandering to those retarded social incompetents who have concluded that the purpose of wearing trousers is not to keep your arse warm, and have decided that we are all so desperate to see their underwear that they keep their trousers at permanent half-mast, supported only by the hands that they have perpetually stuffed in their pockets?

Is that it? If so, Mr Marketing Guru, you're wasting your time because these people have the intellectual capacity of molluscs. Honestly ... for starters, they actually think that they look good.

Are you all out of your tiny, barely functional minds? You absolutely, positively do fucking not look cool.

You're also not making any statement other than: "Please mug me, because I will be unable to run after you, since my trousers will be round my ankles. Plus, of course, you know that I'm worth mugging because I'm precisely the sort of feeble-minded tosspot that thinks people are impressed by bling and a flash mobile."

So ... if that's what you're happy announcing to the world, if the statement you choose to make is "I haven't yet mastered the art of dressing myself, a feat usually accomplished by the average three year old" then please feel free to carry on.

Otherwise, look in the fucking mirror, you imbecilic cock-monkey. You look like a prize twat.

There's no helping some people.