If I was forced at gunpoint, to lie on the ground and have a dude, dressed just in underpants, grind his undercarriage on my face, but I could select the pants he wore, I’d probably choose these. Just to be completely clear, I am not a gayman. I enjoy the erotic company of ladies. I have no interest in a man’s touch – either his light caress, or the kind of gas-mask, rubber-dong play that can make a bro involuntarily come and piss at the same time. As I say, I’m not a gayman. I just like these pants is all.

They’re by Hamilton and Hare and you can grab them over at Wolf and Badger. I’m not sure I’ve got the wallet for them though? Is 34 beans what we’re paying for our panties right now? For that you get soft stretch jersey, a nice chunky waistband, mother of pearl buttons and a bit of contrast stitching. They’re very smart. The perfect after-dinner pant. And the only pants you’re allowed to wear when transferring a sizable amount Krugerrands to an off shore holding company. I know that for a fact.

Hamilton and Hare do this style too…

If anything, these crank the smart-o-meter even higher. Debonair, it’s the only word for them…  yeah, these are some fucking debonair pants. They’re even called the ‘Blue Chip’. These things are proficient in Taekwondo, have earned two Michelin stars and are fluent in five languages. Trust me, you are not enough man for these pants – pants like this buy men like you every day. You wanna roll with the big dogs playa? You’re gonna have to unzip your little purse and tip out 38 gold pieces. Not so swagger now brah?

I have to say, I do now feel that the scenario I opened with is beneath me. Bringing homosexuality to the table, just because I’m writing about pants, is absurdly infantile. There is no place for sex, homosexual, heterosexual or otherwise on a site devoted to men’s clothing. Rest assured, from now on there will be no, utterly irrelevant, references to greased-up, full forearm fisting, gay-for-pay bathhouse parties,  pony play and erotic vomiting.