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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