High trousers used to be something I could laugh at and mock. Like obscure Causes of hair loss, they were something that happened to other people–always other people. I never thought that a day would come when, almost over-night, I would start to show signs of a downward spiral in to the grim depths of high-trouser-wearing fashion. But that day has come, I must now admit. There is no turning back from this terrible point on.
I walked in to a snooker club with my friend. The evening was set to be an embarrassing series of small disasters piled-up on one another. Firstly not knowing where the balls went, then hitting the balls, then not managing to pocket any at all. But I felt safe and confident in myself. At least I’m not old, I thought, at least I’m not a high trouser wearer!
That was when the youngsters descended on us out of nowhere…youngsters in a snooker club…what next? I thought, ’Pimp My Cue’ on TV? Suddenly, the smile fell of my face as more and more arrived…Tens of them with their own custom-built snooker cues–walking with swagger and with jeans much lower on their hips than I. And it was then that I noticed in the mirrored wall what looked like an old man wearing high trousers. He had my face, this man, and believe me when I say I wanted to kill him.
As the embarrassing disasters piled-up, compounded by the fact that every attempt to hit a ball meant leaning in a certain kind of way which only hitched my trousers up higher, I began to cry inside. I’m doomed! I thought. I’m properly, properly doomed!
But at that point luck shined brightly: the main leader of the low-slung youth gang, his jeans fell down in front of everyone! There, under the spot-lights, I put my hands on my hips and said, “who says wearing trousers around your nipples is a stupid thing to do?”
