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.

Monday, 12 November 2012

Caught red-handed

Many thanks to Leigh for this one. Apparently getting his mate to stand in the shot wasn't an entirely successful ruse. Said the red-trousered man on finishing his call (who we can only assume has grown six inches since he bought this pair) "I hope you got a good one, you cunt!" Good enough matey, good enough.

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