When I was on holiday in Llandudno I lost a pair of
sunglasses under the car seat. I thrust a hand under the seat and found a fake
eyeball and a plastic Marks & Spencer’s voucher card. On a walk through the
town I took the card into M&S desk and the man at the desk said there was
£50 on it.
I decided to
buy enough underpants to last me for the rest of my life. Underpants are like
pasta – too many types to choice from. There were two display racks full of
underpants and I paced out the lengths - both were 4 metres long by 1.5m high.
They’re just mamba managers - why are there so many pairs available? I’m sure
there used to be two or three types but now there’re skimpy things that
wouldn’t cover a ladybird to shorts you could use as a tent to huge Y fronts
that could hold two new-born piglets.
As I boy my
mum bought all my clothes and in the changing rooms at secondary school I saw
not every boy wore white Y-fronts with matching vest. Colin Heron had a leopard
print style that Bette Lynch would have favoured (and it was rumoured he’d got
a girl to massage the Cumberland sausage housed in the undergarment.) They boys
wore all manner of sizes and colours. I realised I was probably a little behind
the herd (I realised in assembly I was the only person who steepled
my hands together while saying the Lord’s Prayer.) I thought all men wore Y
fronts – my dad did, George Roper on George
And Mildred did. Weren’t they large and strong to manage the man-pack and
reduce swing? Obviously not.
Fashion was an
anathema to me and I was about 21 before I ventured into a Next shop on my own
to buy clothes (it was one of the last times, too. I dislike shopping as much
as I dislike getting bits of scrambled egg out of the sink plughole.)
Anyway, here
is a painting paying tribute to the gigantic Y front garment. I started this in
the autumn and kept going back to it so it was summer by time it was finished.
The lady’s legs were simply done but the man wasn’t. I used myself as a model
and did various poses in my room bedroom (all photos destroyed to avoid
blackmail.) I charged myself £200/hour. Male-Escorts-For-The-Blind-And-Desperate
rent me out at this rate.
Painting
myself and the furniture slightly fuzzy to push it all into the mid-distance
wasn’t easy. I painted definite lines then made them fuzzy with a cheek blusher
brush bought from Poundland. Most difficultly sprang
from painting the fading light around the lamp. This took many layers of paint,
many minutes of blending and many rags to scrape it off and start again.
I’ve shown some photos of “Y Fronts
Reservoir” in Audenshaw.
Starting off, watching Hi Di Hi!
If stuck feed the pigeons…