You are at a concert of your favourite pop group, in the first few rows of the mosh pit to be exact. During an overly vigourous song, drenched in sweat, beer and whatever detritus happens to accumulate on your person, you realise you are squashed in a position so tight and restrictive, that any anecdote suggestive of a sardine would be an understatement.

There is force pushed in every direction onto your person in such a fashion that movement is impossible - except for a steady up and down jumping movement in time with the beat.

The rhythm is tribal, animalistic and impulsive as you and the group of people attached to you can only jump up and down in sequence to the beat of the music in front of you. There is no room to dance, people fall beside you and you desperately try to pull them back up into the vertical position, lest they are trampled by the surging hordes.

Tight as it may be, with your arms now crossed against your chest, or high in the air, aimlessly making the sign of the devil or a pitiful wave to the guitarist who couldn't possibly see you amongst the melee of coursing flesh in front of him.

It is at this exact moment, that you realise that your belt was not fastened tightly enough before you decided to enter the mosh pit. If you could look down, which you can't because of the force of 500 screaming fans bearing down against you, you would see clearly that your trousers are now down around your ankles.

At this point, you can only continue to follow the up and down gyration of the crowd. Luckily, the long haired man pressed against the front of you, shirtless, covered in tattoos and sweat, and with enough muscles to tear you into small pieces of confetti, is unaware that you are jumping up and down behind him with your pants around your ankles.

Enter the Mosh Pit Codpiece. Rather than wait for your clothing to be torn off amongst the frisson, wear it with pride, leaving all other clothing at the door or with a friend/girlfriend etc. On the tip of this rubber/leather apparatus is a flashing light, so as you can be seen amongst the crowd, with the name of the band clearly written in large letters across the front.

If anyone should look across at you in the sea of flying bodies, to see that you are half naked, they will understand that you are so committed to the band before you, that only a codpiece will do -when it comes to showing how much of a devotee you are to the music you have paid good money to experience.
-- benfrost, Jul 08 2005

G.G. Allin, just for the hell of it. http://www.fed-up.c...stuff/gg/ggart2.gif
[daseva, Jul 08 2005]

I will wear mine the next time I see Tony Bennett.
-- calum, Jul 08 2005


This would work, especially if you have come to see Cameo.
-- Minimal, Jul 08 2005


+, as always, for "frisson".
-- bungston, Jul 08 2005


It would be eaten like sushi at the Gwar show.
-- jaksplat, Jul 08 2005


no place for a girl <runs away>
-- po, Jul 08 2005


Baked once upon a time with Marylin Manson shows circa 1998. I was horrified.

You could always go G.G. Allin style. (link provided to show the horrid endpoints of such endeavors).
-- daseva, Jul 08 2005


Surely Larry Blackmon was wearing one in, oh, lemme guess, 1986?
-- AbsintheWithoutLeave, Jul 08 2005



random, halfbakery