Saturday, March 18, 2006

Jacket In!

Aren't jackets great?

Don't spend too long thinking, it's a rhetorical question. That means you don't have to answer it. Of course jackets are great. They are also skill and mintah. Don't you even know that?

So, hats off to jackets then. The ideal garment for the british climate. It might be quite warm one minute and then a bit chilly the next. If you wear a big coat you will be too hot when the sun shines and you'll sweat like a fat lass at a dance when you get indoors. The wise jacket wearer will have none of these problems.

Similarly, if you go coatless where do you keep your pocket-book, watch, portable phone, mp3 stereogram, keys, smoking accoutrements and a thousand and one miscellaneous items without which no modern gentleman can leave the house? In some sort of a man-bag? Yeah, if you're some kind of a puppy-squeezer who likes to parade about in a big flowery dress, then go for it. Otherwise, a jacket is the order of the day.

There are numerous examples in history of the importance of jacket wearing. Consider the battle at Rorke's Drift, as immortalized in the film "Zulu". The Zulus may have massively outnumbered the British soldiers, they had the better tunes and home advantage, which is practically worth a goal head start. They didn't have jackets, though. They were running around with no shirts on, like a bunch of fools.

Our brave boys buttoned up their snazzy red jackets, loaded up their rifles (which may have played a minor role in clinching the victory) and went into battle looking by far the more stylish side.

As recently as the 1960s, another campaign involving jacket wearing individuals was waged in the seaside resorts of southern England. I refer to the numerous Rockers vs Mods contests that were a regular feature of a swinging sixties Bank Holiday. If there's one thing you can rely on from a British Bank Holiday by the sea, it's that the rain will be tipping it down. The mods, weighed down by their overlong, rain-sodden, stupid looking fin-tail parkas, were no match for their rocker opponents whose greasy leather jackets and oil-coated quiffs were impervious to the elements.

I think we have clearly demonstrated that wearing a jacket makes you both hard and cool. If any further proof be needed, let us consider Phil "face like a baked bean" Collins and his 1985 album "No Jacket Required". This woeful collection of over-produced, thatcherite, anodyne, soulless shite sums up everything that was bad about the eighties. And the titles disses jackets.

I ask you, what a cunt, eh?

No jacket required? In a chimp's cock!

So, to sum up:
* jackets = good
* our boys at Rorke's Drift = good
* Phil Collins = cunt

Remember this and stay safe.

I'm off to see my baldy mate get married to his childhood sweetheart. It promises to be a heart-warming occasion at which a lesser man might get quite emotional and perhaps shed a tear, like some sort of lass.

Thankfully I am not lesser men and instead will spend the evening filling my pockets with chicken legs and my belly with Federation LCL lager beer.

Increase da peace!

No comments: