The sultry-voiced MC of the misnamed Fantasy Island—an island whose fantasies were not actual fantasies as such but rather provided solutions to problems that led you to spend presumably tens of thousands of dollars on a fantasy escape instead of confronting the actual issues at hand (which the magical isle then solved for you even though you hadn't asked it to)— who wears a trademark white suit failed to then notice that his choice of garment made it apparent to those nearby that the misfortune had occurred.
Mr Roarke was fortunately alerted to the problem by his diminutive assistant "Tattoo".
'A stain! A stain!' had cried the small Frenchman pointing at Mr Roarke's crotch.
'My goodness you are correct my tiny friend. It appears I have not shaken my penis as well as I could have. Excuse me,' had responded Mr Roarke who was later seen balancing on a chair under a hot air hand blower in the gents just off the marina.
Postscript: On a side note today I wore my light pants. Fortunately as a generously ampled person who wears their shirts un-tucked, the problem was not readily apparent.