It's a walk off ... it's a walk off

Before we start - a public service announcement. You can see the famous "walk off" Zoolander scene replicated in lego form on YouTube.

Notice I didn't say "here" and put the URL under that. Apparently that's a neddy no for scanread devices. Although it's a link to a video whose humour is derived from the visual so it's still a shitty thing to do.

On with the talk.

My undies are starting to fail.

Perhaps its the duration of service? Perhaps the elastic has sagged from overstretch? But the lads I regularly don are frayed and holed. In a couple the gusset has torn free from the moorings and disappeared - and if I don't wipe well this threatens potential skiddies on my pants.

Because I Harry High then the failing undies have a tendency to drift ... below making for an uncomfortable wearing experience of a taut pants rim around my belly button yet a sagging stomach overhanging underpants beneath.

I rectify this when possible.

Alas it means slipping my hand into my daks, reaching downward, and internally puling my undies back into place. I look like Zoolander when he's attempting the ultimate walk-off move.

The other day I was walking along when the undies drifted away again. Without thinking I got in there to pull them back up. This turned out to be a bit of a struggle. The five second manuever turned into a twenty second disturbing display.

As I looked up I saw the overly attractive twenty nothing PA staring up at me from her desk. This is the same PA I nearly chest bumped over when I came around a corner - she only comes up to my nose - when I was singing 'Hitler, he's only got one ball!'

I thank the stars I was at the whistle bit when it happened.