Tuesday, July 15, 2003


Isn't fashion shit at the moment? And I mean this in a blokey kind of shit as well. Let's look at the evidence from my seat by the Jubilee Clock this afternoon. Naff 70's style tinted sunglasses. Extra short t-shirts. Flared trousers that refuse to die. And flip-flops. Flip-flops. What happened? Did they overstock at the seaside tat warehouse then? It's a national disaster, that's what it is. And Something's Got To Be Done.

At this point, I would like to pass on my thanks to the fashion czars for allowing tight white t-shirts to be worn for the tenth year in a row. For small mercies we are eternally grateful. HOWEVER! It is the trend for bare female mid-riffs that is most disturbing. I go outside in the lovely hot weather we've been experiencing recently, and I'm disgusted. I didn't realise so many girls had beer bellies. What looks great on some tanned stick insect in a fashion magazine does not look good on the seafront at Weymouth with a packet of chips. Put it away, before you take someone's eye out. And that goes for you blokes as well.

Scary's Rule of Thumb For Fashion: If you want to know what is going to look ridiculous, passe and just downright fucking awful on your local High Street in six months time, just take a gander at what Victoria and David Beckham are wearing right now. Cut the pair of them some slack - they're doing a vital public service. To the outsider they're just a couple of attention whores. To the rest of us, they're looking fucking stupid now so you don't have to in the future. Bless 'em.

Me: Grey tee. Black jeans. Worn out trainers. Since 1982.

Sad CNPS bit: The seventeen is thussly seen. I am now looking for a thirty-three.

Fresh Pie. With added tentacles.

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