Underwear

Man has an odd relationship with wears of the covert nature. Especially new underwear, the like of which disturbs me greatly. This gets amplified around this time of year (I thought this up at Christmas). And so...

My relationship with new underwear is awkward and uncomfortable. It would seem that the familiarity necessary when wearing new underwear is rather thrust upon both parties. In reality the first impressions are all crotch and no small talk.

Perhaps it is the knowledge that a little deeper in the draw is a pair more likened to an old friend or family dentist which, would truly feel like home. Safe, secure, supportive. Even if the old friend has started to let themselves go and are more and more likely to let you fall, at least they aren't some jolly-come-lately desperate to get inside your trousers at the soonest opportunity.

So yes, my underwear was fine until it was invaded by the modernisation brigade. Perhaps I should have joined the Underpants Trade Union (UTU). To quote a friend, You don't run an empire on yoghurt and museli in new underpants. It just isn't cricket.