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.

Wednesday, 23 May 2012

Isle of Wight Ferry





















Love these shots of lone RT blokes gazing disconsolately at shelves of low quality food.

"Ghastly prawn sandwich? Or tuna and sweet corn? Do I even like prawns? Not much. Cheese maybe? You're usually safe with cheese. It's all equally disgusting. But I'm hungry so I should definitely get something. I just haven't yet decided what. Red bull to wash it down I reckon - red bull's nice." etc.

That's what he's mainly thinking. But running alongside those thoughts is the slow steady burble of "I'M WEARING RED TROUSERS! I'M RED TROUSERS GUY! OH YES I AM!"


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