From South Ken to Shoreditch, from Jermyn Street to Mare Street – these days anyone that’s anyone is wearing red trousers.

If you want your leg-coverings to let the world know that you’ve got a few quid and don’t care who knows it, or that you have some big ideas about what’s on at the ICA right now - or simply that you are completely insane (but in a mainly non-stabby way) - then you’d better get your wife or girlfriend to take those jeans and chinos down to the charity shop post-haste!

Because there’s only one type of trousers you’ll be wanting to wear, and that’s RED TROUSERS. In fact - if you can’t wear red trousers you’d be better off wearing NO TROUSERS AT ALL. That’s what I say.

Thursday, 28 April 2011

A cracking pair

Moustache/jacket matchey-matchey


  1. Going by the weedy stature of those red trouser wearers who you haven't labelled "lunatics", I can only assume that your definition of lunatic is "won't get completely mauled and piss themselves five seconds into a punch up".

    This man is the sole bastion of masculinity on your blog.

    Just sayin'

  2. His big American brother runs Orange county choppers