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

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.


  1. Triple points score. Green Hunters, red trousers and Barbour. I bet he can't wait to get into his Ranger Rover and head back into town.

  2. My old school, Old Pupils Association (now that it's co-ed, can't call it Old Boys) better known as Old Cats. less unrollable off the tongue.