What possesses a man to send a headless picture of himself - wearing pants - to a complete stranger? And why, when aforesaid picture arrives, done up nicely in a neat little yellow zip file, does the female recipient fall about in paroxysms of laughter? I mean - there's nothing inherently wrong with the torso - it has the right number of limbs - the tummy's not bad, and the thighs have clearly been worked a bit - but where on earth is the head? Were the pants chosen carefully before the shot? Or are they incidental? Do they send a deliberate message: solid, masculine, black, dependable, clean, natural, with just a hint of sexiness? Or are they mean spirited, dull, and conservative - spun from the byproduct of petroleum and manufactured by lost children deep in the Bangladeshi textile industry?
Whatever the subtleties or otherwise of the pants message, it was received with glorious uninhibited bellowing laughter - I laughed in the kitchen, in the shower, while feeding the cats - and on the way to work - I laughed uncontrollably in meetings, in the Co-op queue, and filling in my council tax forms. For two whole days - the pants did their trick - I hadn't felt so good in years. So to the strange man in the pants - thank you.. it was unexpected - it was a wee bit creepy - but in the end it was cracking good fun....
Keep up the good work - the women of the nation are smiling with gratitude...
