Half Mast Jeans in Scarborough by Dave Whitehouse
My wife and I are visiting from New Zealand and this exposed-underwear phenomenon is rife down there. We thought, once we arrived in this centre of conservatism, this realm, this England, low-slung jeans and trousers would be a thing of the past amongst the young, they may have moved on to more intelligent styles. I have a grandson back in Kiwiland who wears his strides in this fashion but I think I may have got through to him by threatening to haul them down, very publicly, next time I consider them reaching the embarrassing stage. Naturally, he performed like a trained seal at the mere suggestion I would do it, but underneath all his verbal excuses and fashion-ista determination to be part of the 'scene', he also understood I wasn't kidding and really he couldn't argue if I did a down-trou on him. Due to a slight financial imbalance between my maturity and his penniless-youth, that was not an option for him at all. ... Round One to Grampop.
On Wednesday we were in Scarborough and I took the accompanying photo whilst strolling along the sea-front. The young man concerned will never know how close he came to having his strides whipped down by an aging, cheeky Kiwi man intent on striking somewhere, on some unsuspecting youth, for the sheer pleasure of seeing his face once he realised what had happened. It was only this old fogie's wife who stopped this happening. My logic on this tactic of mine is that I am still reasonably fit and can break into a trot should I need to. Knowing he would be so busy getting his trousers up again (probably including his yellow-chequered under-pants as well – I figured I might as well down both and go for broke), he would be at a disadvantage so far as chasing me was concerned. Certainly he couldn't do much with his strides around his ankles in the first 20 seconds or so by which time I could be half-way back to New Zealand.
So young man of Scarborough, I found it embarrassing having to view your display of your underwear and your trousers at the lowest half-mast I've ever seen, and my opinion of you fell to the same low level as your trousers. If this is still the fashion over here, then my grandson can breathe a little easier before he gets taught the same lesson.
So the upshot is, young man of Scarborough, be warned. I now have my courage up. My cunning plan is in place and with some good timing, an ounce of luck, and a trouser-height I feel is bordering on indecency, you will be made a fool of in the middle of the main road in Scarborough, or somewhere else wherever I happen to be walking behind you. Keep looking over your shoulder with one hand holding your cell-phone, and your girlfriend holding up the waist-band of your jeans, because I am after you and it is only a matter of time before I get you with a lightning down-trou strike.
Be afraid, be very afraid.