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…