Sunday, 3 March 2013

Baggy Trousers

The world's 'most prolific' streaker, Mark Roberts, with 519 streaks under, well not his belt, I suppose...retired last month, much to the reported relief of his children.

This is lucky in that it leaves a gap in the market for my son.  Still four months away from his fourth birthday, he is showing early signs of a vocation.  In truth, he finds any excuse to drop his trousers.  In public is best, preferably a restaurant, or somewhere equally embarassing (for his mother);  since he appears to feel no embarrassment whatsoever, but gains some kind of genuine pleasure from this exhibitionism.  And people laugh.  Which he loves. 

He usually claims that his trousers are too big.  I have resorted to adjusting every pair to the tightest setting, so that he has to breathe in to get them done up in the morning.  Nevertheless, at some point during the day, they will be round his ankles, and he'll have a mischievous look on his face, arms outstretched to absolve himself from blame. (Yes, a little bit like Mark Roberts in the picture...)

It's been going on for a couple of years.  Ever since his release from the imprisonment of nappies, I suppose, and the freedom of potty training with its inbuilt excuse to whip his pants off without prompting. His audiences are confined to Pizza Hut and the local pub at the moment, but when he makes a name for himself at Wimbledon, or Wembley, in a few years time, you heard it here first. 


  1. Ha. I'm glad to know it's not just mine.

    Friday night, we kept The Boy's cousins. They kept moving from whatever room we were in. At one point they moved into the living room. If I leaned back in the chair I could see them. It was impossible not to hear them.

    "Jake," my son yell's, "look! Jake. Jake. Jake. Look behind you. Jake. Jake. Jake. Look what your missing. Jake..."

    What Jake was missing was my sons bare bottom hovering about 2 inches from the back of his head.

    Then there was a shriek and hysterical laughter.

    I don't know where he gets it...sadly not from his mother :).

    1. How delightful!

      Are you trying to tell me that my son has a rival in this area? What a relief...