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In the Summertime

By Doughboy

 

So summer's here & the time is right for dancing in the street. Sadly Martha Reeves forgot to mention that the change in season raises the chance to dress like a knob tenfold. Now I'll declare this straight away. I HATE summer, always have, always will. I don't like the heat, I don't like the lack of footy (as a non-internationalist I don't care if Mingland compete in anything) & I like wearing coats as much as possible. What I really hate more than anything, now, though is the complete lack of sartorial elegance that the summer beckons forth. That's why I go to work,so I can buy coats & trainees,not so I can look like someone off Home & Away.What is it with even mild weather that makes men throw shorts on? Lets get this straight from the start men's legs are not attractive.  

 

Even Steve McQueen would look like a biff in a pair of Primark Combat shorts & strappy Lacoste trainees. Even on the Costa's or Corfu in July they are only just bearable but in Bootle, Burnage or Bermondsey on a Tuesday night male leg flesh should have a public health warning, they're repulsive. Having calf's like Roberto Carlos but the skin colour of Helena Bonham-Carter is not a positive in any language. Yet in the Noughties we can't keep them hid. The 1st sign of a rise in temperature & they are out. Smackheads in coats, Sted heads with hard dogs in shire horse bridle leads & Beauts in Bistro's all are partial to the Short. What's worse is the footwear that goes with them.

 

Who ever said Merrell made decent wheels? Well they seem to be No.1 in the bad foot attire list for the fresh air leg fetishist. They all seem to be the colour of Sandalwood talc bottles as well. Remember that anthrax-like substance that mothers got for Chrimbo in the 70's from the Avon? You'd be sneezing from it as you unwrapped Stretch Armstrong & then regurgitating it whilst pulling wheelies on your Tomahawk. Well that's the colour the short-wearer prefers.

 

Always accompanied with more Velcro than you'd need to stick Geoff Capes to the side of the Eiger. Them & the aforementioned Lacoste horror trainees with a pair of Ethel Austin sport mini-socks. Yes, you know, the ones that have never been white since leaving the Louisiana cotton patch & hang over the edge of Lord Povveys bad croc-classics. However even the crocodile rockers can't compare with the Satan of Short/Show world. Now calling them a shoe is a gross exaggeration. Ladies & Gentlemen, I give you, the Flip-Flop (although in this media-soaked age of re-branding it's probably the clear air ventilation shoe). The choice of footwear for the short-wearing wannabe gangster.

 

Now I do understand the wearing of these in sunnier climbs coz that's what they're designed for but, no matter if it's Armani or anyone else, wearing them in HMV or on your mobile outside Abbey National is just plain wrong. Especially when accompanied by a juiced up side-kick in Trackies & Air Max with a perma-tan from a Huyton Sun Bed shop. If your in Liverpool ,or any of or major sartorial conurbations, & they'll be there. Sunglasses on head, GI crop like Private Pyle's soap-in-a-blanket wielding nightmare, khaki shorts & a strip if leather rammed between their toes holding a Ryvita to their feet. Ray Winstone's Sexy Beast look has taken over the world of criminality. At least he did it in 90' heat by a pool though not outside Burton's. Why can't it be the Hyman Roth look in Godfather 2, a bit of rag trade sophistication, but no its Blazing Squad with an Uzi all the way.

 

Which leaves me with the Fun Boy. God how these tit's love the summer. The chance to wear nasty combat shorts with their chewed orange hair is irresistable. The chance to put the Henley's too-tight t-shirt over their sunbed & creatine physique is paramount.At least the St.Tropez can be put away for 6 weeks whilst the nuggets bask in UV rays. My only hope of redemption is to live long enough to see the fuckers with lesions on their  preternaturally tanned ankles & faces like the old fella off the Enter Sandman video.



Anyway as I'm writing this its lashing down in June & I've just got in to work in my Berghaus with a big cheesy grin, still it won't stop 'em. They'll be out later walking the hounds of Cerberus in a balaclava, Timberland windcheater & Don Estelle's keks.

I hate summer.

 

 

 

 


 

 

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