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.
You mean "ladyman" shurely.
ReplyDeleteG.
Oh my goodness I think this is my brother-in-law...........
ReplyDeleteCan't be . It has to be my step father!
Deletethis has got knight frank 'country' drinks do written all over it -SNNOOORRRRRTTTTT!!
ReplyDeleteYe Gods Is that Charlie Middle??
ReplyDeleteIts my dad.
ReplyDeleteI think I used to be married to him
ReplyDeleteNo! You're all wrong! It has to be my brother! (blush)
ReplyDeleteSomething about the stance says to me "David Martin-Sperry"... anyone?
ReplyDelete