h a l f b a k e r yWhy did I think of that?
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A sturdy wood or wood effect pole, fastened to the waist of the wearer by means of an elasticated band, to be worn at all times until such time as it becomes unnecessary.
Advantages:
(a) The pole will render impossible the back to front donning of underpants.
(b) The social stigma of
having a large wooden pole protruding from the crotchular area will discourage incorrect pants orientation recidivism.
(c) Eliminates risk of rolling out of bed.
Disadvantages:
(a) Might just make you look like a mentalist.
Drop Gusset Rotatopants
Drop_20Gusset_20Rotatopants
[calum, Sep 13 2005]
Twin Axes Symmetropants
Twin_20Axes_20Symmetropants
[calum, Sep 13 2005]
Smarty Pants
Smarty_20Pants
[calum, Sep 13 2005]
Pole Stroll, by FJ
Pole_20Stroll
The day I got applause... [Jinbish, Sep 14 2005]
[link]
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what's the matter with him? |
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Is it sposed to poke out of that fiddly hole at the front? |
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You could have a metal flange, possibly with some magnetic clasping device, located at the front of your underpants, onto which a pole can be fitted/clasped (like one of those magnetic things on a ladies purse). |
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The pole can then be used as an underpant 'applicator' (simply lift, and step into the underpants - it would be very difficult to achieve backwards orientation) The applicatior could then be simply detached for comfort once the underpants are on. |
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I invision one of those levers that sit beside railway tracks firmly affixed up ones arse. |
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For once, I don't think I want to know. |
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//Might just make you look like a mentalist// Are mindreaders particularly noted for their underwear orientation devices? |
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For a man who is supposed to wear a kilt wi' nae breeks, you seem to be having a surprising amount of difficulty with your underpants. |
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That's possibly *why* he has so much trouble. |
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So let me get this right. This is a set of pants - with a pole on them. |
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I think it needs a snappier, shorter name though... |
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Jinbish, we've been there - done that. |
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Fashions come and go... but class is timeless! |
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Thought this was going to be a cancer cure. - Not sure why. |
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My dear Murdoch, I appreciate your concern for my psychosexual wellbeing. It is indeed heartening to know that among us there are still those who are happy to offer advice and support even if that advice and support is little more than a flimsy excuse to mask their prurient prying into the private lives of others. |
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But I feel required to point out at this time that I am a member of a profession so Calvinistic in character that clenched jaws, pale lips and and deep, dank repression of sexual deviancy most vile are de facto pre-requisites for membership. Truly, there is little that a layperson can teach a lawyer about such matters. Some members of the profession will chose to revel in their depravity, plunging themselves into a carnival of lubriciousness that is in equal parts animal and calculated. Some do not. What is shared among all lawyers is their dreams; shadowy and confused they are, with little remaining in the cold and sweat-soaked waking dawn but the sounds; the ominous creak of black leather and of man-made polymers, the wet slapping of flesh on flesh, the whimpering and the cries of ecstacy that could be either mammalian on reptillian. |
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As such, a strap on cock, no matter how large, lustrous and ornately carved, is a mere bagatelle, and a member of the profession requires no more excuse to sport one than a navvy would a hard hat, or a social worker would a copy of the Guardian. |
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The purpose of the invention is to ensure that when I wake up after my nightly shallow and nightmare strewn sleep, I am able, despite my early morning thoughts still flitting uncontrollably from the day ahead back to the wispy fragments of the images of the night, to don my underpants in a manner entirely in harmony with the upstanding and well respected nature of the legal profession. To do otherwise would be, as I have mentioned elsewhere, a disciplinary matter. |
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Er... [calum]... I can't make it to the pub tonight... I don't like the sound of all the talk about big black c...
I mean I have to floss my cats teeth tonight! She's got a horrible build up of tartar. You'll have to do without me tonight. And tomorrow too. Sorry! |
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//Underwear Orientation Compliance Pole //
I think this is slightly racist. After all, other nationalities* are quite able to check your underwear orientation, and probably at quite reasonable rates if you ask them nicely. |
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* Except, perhaps, those that just wear loin-cloths or kilts. |
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//This sounds like the sort of thing one has to do to get to the bar in Scotland// That's the last time I order a pint of eighty shillings. |
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//Calum, you're not a member of the Faculty of Advocates are you?//
Nothing so fancy for me. I am a member of the Law Society of Scotland and a person authorised and regulated by the Financial Services Authority, membership of the former seemingly having no effect on my status as a "fit and proper" person for the purposes of the latter, provided that is, I can keep my underwear on the right way round. |
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//a person authorised and regulated by the Financial Services Authority//
Meaning you paid the membership fee on time again this year so they didn't ask any embarrassing questions. |
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//to don my underpants in a manner entirely in harmony with the upstanding and well respected nature of the legal profession. To do otherwise would be, as I have mentioned elsewhere, a disciplinary matter.// |
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I can't help but wonder why your co-workers in the legal profession should have any knowledge of the orientation of your underwear. |
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Why, the why is not the issue. The why is simple: because other than within the unspoken and undefined realms of sleep and private sexual impropriety, the Profession expects her members to maintain at all times a standard of behaviour that is in line with that set out in the teachings of the established and presbyterian Church of Scotland. (Indeed, there are those within the profession, probably those who have the most tortured and uneven sleep, who would prefer that the benchmark was set at a more Knoxian pitch). Wearing underwear back to front is evidence enough of a "maverick" streak a mile wide, of a moral anarchism entirely at odds with the nature of the profession. At it would take would be for one of the becowled inhabitants of the Society's inner sanctum, to croak, from a mouth ringed by cracked and yellow lips, "He wears his underwear back to front, eh?" and my career would be end immediately, as if cut with a swift and glinting swing of a scythe. In short order I would find myself in an iron cage, swinging in the Edinburgh breeze, for the rest of my days little more than a target for egg-toting youths, and a crooked, skeletal warning to the Society's less socially deviant members. That is the why. It's not the why that bothers me. No, it is the How that I want to know. The How. |
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are they o.k. about you tucking your shirt in your underpants? I heard a rumour... |
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Lawyers know their fake cocks and it will be to the members of the Society absolutely clear that the Underwear Orientation Compliance Pole is resolutely not a strap on. It is a physical and obvious manifestation of my attempt to better myself, to avoid sartorial turpitude. |
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Edit: wait, what? I'm talking to myself here. |
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You have so little faith, [calum]. Picture this instead: |
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...becowled inhabitants of the Society's inner sanctum, to croak, from a mouth ringed by cracked and yellow lips: "After centuries of searching - the prophecy of backwards pants is fulfilled! We have found the chosen one Praise be the chosen one!" |
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Weelll, that might be the reason that after four incidents of pants to frontness, I am not yet swinging in breeze. |
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That's because you've been going about it all wrong. Commando, man. You'll be swinging in no time. |
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