Tuesday 27 February 2007
Return of the Gentleman's Underpants
They're back again, navy blue, and on my balcony. If they were more my colour - green, say - I'd confiscate them, soak 'em in disinfectant, and add them to my collection. As it is, to paraphrase my dear friend Oscar, to lose your underpants once may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose them twice looks like carelessness.
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13 comments:
Could this be some kind of fascinating new seduction technique?
Sadly for poor Mr Upstairs, I refuse to be seduced by anyone who cannot demonstrate skills in the appropriate handling of clothes pegs.
Time for a quick game of In My Pants?
The rules: think of a song title and then add the words In My Pants.
For example,
I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’ in my Pants
Popcorn in my Pants
Joy to the World in my Pants
Hallelujah Chorus in my Pants
Good thing you didn't refer to that song by the full title:
'Joy to the world the Lord has come...
IN MY PANTS'.
Rude!
I met Helena from level 2 last night, and she attributes the underpants to a posse of three young chaps from level 3, notorious for a free and easy approach to their smalls. She encourages me to package renegade undies up in a plastic bag and hang them from the chaps' doorknob.
I was amusing myself on the plane to Newark yesterday by writing down a few more song titles according to the 'IN YOUR PANTS' game. A few:
'Goldfinger - IN YOUR PANTS!'
'Onward Christian Soldiers - IN YOUR PANTS!'
'Santa Claus is coming - IN YOUR PANTS!'
'Up there, Cazally - IN YOUR PANTS!'
'Tea for Two - IN YOUR PANTS!'
'Open Wide, Come Inside - IN YOUR PANTS!'
'Tea for Two - IN YOUR PANTS!' - (The Camilla Parker-Bowles and Prince Charles edition)
My absolute favourite, though, would have to be this - which has a (disturbing) meaning on so many levels:
'How Much Is That Doggie In the Window - IN YOUR PANTS!'
Heaven Is A Place On Earth In My Pants
Like A Virgin In My Pants
It's A Wonderful World In my Pants
Crazy For You In my Pants
Poison In my Pants
Wild Women Do In My pants
Celebrate (good times, come on!) in my pants
It's A Hard Day's Night (and I've Been Working Like A dog ...) In My Pants
I Don't Want to Wait in my Pants —Paula Cole
Hands in my Pants —Jewel
Bring Me to Life in my Pants —Evanescence
The World is Not Enough in my Pants —Garbage
Yairs, yairs, you're all hilarious. I note that none of you offers constructive suggestions for safeguarding my balcony from further unsolicited underpant incursions, though. I think netting would look a tad paranoid, and presenting upstairs with a handful of clothes pegs might come across as confrontational.
Dear "Like the drink", can I have a clue as to which drink you're like?
OK, sorry Alexis. We're all just being puerile, silly and smutty, which is not helping at all.
Some people would write a disturbing poster in large crazy capital letters and stick it on the wall just inside the building's front door, with the pants stapled onto it, signed Disgusted. Others would confiscate the underwear and chuck it in the bin. And the majority, more constructively, would quietly do the sensible plastic bag thing as suggested by Helena.
Are there pigeons in Thornbury? Perhaps you could try training one of them to be a special homing carrier pigeon to return future pairs of trespassing undies back to the upper balcony?
Ack! Sorry. I was having one of my spinster aunt moments back there. Smut away! I've been laughing merrily. (I think I will collect future visiting underpants and incorporate them into a patchwork that pays tribute to Thornbury and the rich diversity of her citizens.)
Clue
Cheek to Cheek in my Pants —Fred Astaire
Ah, thanks for that, but I'm not sure I'm much the wiser. Your name sounds like "coffee". Cathy? (Sorry for being dense; it's the weather.)
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