The next person that accuses me of having, ‘man flu’, before giggling like it’s the wittiest aside in the recorded history of human utterance, is getting a scowl.
Please understand. It’s not wit. It’s just what unimaginative people who work in offices say, because they once heard it on an advert or some shit. It’s not even a thing. I’m a man with a cold. That’s all. I don’t accuse a female colleague with an upset stomach of having the ‘chick shits’.
Problems is, when a broseph like myself wants to peacock a new piece, but needs to keep his body warmth on lock, something’s got to give. Hence the above. I’m rocking a new S/S14 Folk sweat, but I’m keeping mother nature’s breezy tendrils at bay with a blaze blaze. Unfort, the best, most interesting bit of my new Folk piece is the back. So I’m sacking my maximum steez potential, in favour of trying not to die of a cold. Tough decisions brah.
So you want to see the back of this thing or what?
Well I like it. According to the Folkists, this collection is “inspired by the lines and blockish structures of brutalist architecture.” In practical terms, this means there are some cream panels on the back. 90 sheets will snare you one of these and I think Folk are knocking out the most interesting sweats this season. Shame I need to cover it up really. You know, to maintain the state I like to refer to as alive.
Of course, I know the ‘man flu’ brigade are just victims of the culturally pervasive emasculation of men. Mass media’s packed full of hilarious, ineffectual men struggling around in adverts, TV shows and films. Useless, stupid, men. Baking, cleaning, looking after the kids and being surprised by their families while dancing amusingly badly to amusingly bad pop songs.
Thing is, some of us are still old school bros. Some of us get colds, not ‘man flu’. Some of us like drinking pints, not cocktails. And some of us are confident enough to say we like watching Steel Magnolias with our girlfriends. Or Predator. Yeah, Predator.