Night time stranded tram.
On average I don the black tie rig out about half a dozen times a year whilst attending the quasi religious rites, Academy Awards and drunken ceremonies that demand their wearing. It’s either the Scottish kilted version or the tuxedo and usually 50/50 between the two. The thing is “black tie” is, when viewed from a safe distance a fairly peculiar set of archaic and frankly silly fashion conventions that result in some strange results as we try to maintain a level of smartness and sophistication. First of all (for blokes here) neither thing is comfortable. Wearing a kilt is tolerable standing up, sitting down it’s like wearing a roll of corrugated iron that’s coated with spiky rust inside. Sporrans are also daft, ok if you were going into clan battle or marching from Kirkintiloch to Campbeltown; it was the perfect place to store your porridge back in the day, now it’s just a nuisance. The other things with kilts are that you cant drive a car easily, take a steady pee or perch on stool in one and Prince Charles appears to like them, that tells you something. A tux isn’t quite as awkward, it’s just a jacket and trousers after all. I’ve abandoned the cummerbund thing though, that’s like wearing a tiny elusive apron that wants to crawl across your lap and round your waist. Clothing with a life of it’s own is never a good thing. The worst part of either set of this socially acceptable bondage gear is the bow tie and winged collar, devices that combine to give the wearer a true red-neck and an uncontrollable urge to burst the button’s stranglehold by nine thirty or earlier if possible. It’s also at about this time when after a few red wines you wonder how we ever got to this place; why not clown suits or battledress? why not spandex or knitted pullovers? We are where we are and I wasn’t the person who defined normal. The ladies of course make all the real effort, do all the planning, smile as their outfits and undergarments restrain and contain them and maintain a quiet composure whilst tortured and tottering in high heels, maybe the kilt’s not so bad.
Don’t Vote, it just encourages the bastards! Why are my current crop of favourites a peculiar mix of real and fictional people? Malcolm Tucker, P J O’Rourke, Bob Servant, Neil Young, Steve Jobs, Sherlock Holmes, Lupin III, Ang Lee, probably because that reflects the ratio between reality and fantasy that currently prevails - in some places.
Climate change: Relax, there’s not a single thing you can do about it. There are 1.4 billion people in China and they all want a Ford Ranger.