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.

Sunday, 22 April 2012


Worse for wear

One does not simply wear red trousers and then fall asleep pissed on the train home.

The Zetland

This is a site-specific one. The Zetland is on the Old Brompton Road of course and, being much closer to the tube station than the next nearest pub, is often wandered into by the likes of Professor Blue Jumper and The Earl of Handkerchief here. But it's basically full of builders and passing trade. I bet they didn't stay long.

Old Brompton road again

Thank you to Ben, who persuaded (it seems without too much difficulty) this gang of Sloaney partygoers to pose for the camera. They look like part of a Dulux Farrow & Ball colour chart.

Old Caterhamian's Rugby

I'd be surprised if RTs weren't disproprortionately in evidence at school reunions. Perhaps some current Caterhamians (doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?) could do one of those bollocks modern geography projects on the topic.

Thursday, 5 April 2012

Father and son

With admirable paternal pride the head of the family graciously concedes defeat in the household's daily pudding-eating competition, for the 7593rd time in a row.