Posts Tagged ‘underpants’

It’s a delicate subject I know, but somebody’s got to raise it for the sake of the comfort of any male planning to move to Spain before it’s too late and they find that they’re destined to walk with a strange gait, or find themselves making unsociable bodily adjustments in public for evermore. STOCK UP ON UNDERPANTS BEFORE YOU MOVE!

It’s not that men’s underpants here are horrendous, or anything like that, in fact like the bulk of Spanish fashion, they’re actually quite stylish. The problem is that, like the ubiquitous Blackpool guest house, there’s no ballroom.

Nada, zilch…no extra little pouch, nothing. They seem to have been designed for men who have the biological build of an action man figure. Now, although I haven’t made a study of this, I don’t believe I’m particularly unusual in the old ‘two boiled eggs in a silk purse’ department. I’m certainly no Nick Nolte (I read that a few years ago he had to have a nip and tuck to stop him from sitting on his…ouch). So I’ve no idea why many underpants in Spain have this design flaw.

A friend had her own theory. “Well Spanish men don’t have much down there, do they,” she said with the confidence of someone who had first hand knowledge; although I didn’t press her for information on how she knew this.

Some underpants are actually better than others and do have a little bit of ‘give’, but I’ve reached the point where I’ve graded mine according to what I plan to do on any particular day.

  • If I’m going to be walking a lot, then it’s got to be a pair bought in the UK; sensible, comfortable and loads of room for manoeuvre.
  • If there’s a limited amount of walking then one of the Spanish pairs with slight give can usually get me through, albeit with the occasional uncomfortable slippage.
  • If I’m working at home then the ballroom-ess pairs can come off the subs bench.

If I mix these basic rules up, it’s a disaster which isn’t pleasant for me or anyone else in the vicinity. There’ll be an almost audible ‘pop’ as ‘the lads’ make their great escape, followed by a descent into the ministry of funny walks as I try to manoeuvre things back into a more comfortable position (under the completely misguided impression that by not using my hands I’m not attracting attention to my predicament), followed by a last resort, hand down the trousers and manual realignment. Like I said not pleasant and akin to a living hell.

These Spanish underpants may look stylish on a model on a billboard when everything’s where it should be, but when there’s a pair of testicles hanging out of one leg looking as though they’re in the grip of the Boston Strangler, it kind of ruins the effect don’t you think?

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