Speedo trap: letting it all hang out
With the weather warming up, we will be forced to see sights that can permanently affect some of us, especially the young. It’s time dem bies on de hill do something about it.
I propose that we rally together, take to the streets, chain ourselves to the Cabinet Office gates, if need be, and demand that Government pass a Bill so that dem byes in blue be given powers to issue Speedo fines.
No, I’m not talking about stopping speeders on South Shore; I’m talking about men wearing Speedo swimsuits on South Shore.
Like the speeding limit, there should be a Speedo limit: if a man is wearing Speedos and his gut hangs over his bathing suit by more than an inch, fine him. Name and shame, I say.
Will someone please explain to me why a young man goes to the beach and wears those baggy swimming trunks that come down to his knees, and yet a tired, dried-up old-aged 60-plus prune of a man will wear Speedos? You must have seen them walking up and down the beach like they’re some sort of a famous supermodel.
I even saw one walking up and down with a comb sticking out of his trunks. OK, sure, you might think he likes to keep a neat appearance, but the man was bald!! I’m betting he left his weave in the other trunks.
Why is it that men that old think they look good in a pair of itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie trunks and at 59, they modestly cover their body with two inches of fabric, and Lycra at that? It’s horrifying!
Surely it can’t be for the viewing pleasure of others? In what right mind would some old dude think that he’s giving fellow beachgoers a feast for their eyes by displaying his overtanned, hairy man boobs that flap around in the breeze, and usually a belly that looks like he just swallowed a potbellied pig? Oh, and don’t forget that large, gold, vulgar pendant that he bought for today’s outing at the beach.
This is one of those things where men and women, when they reach a certain age, go off in two completely different directions.
Women, when younger, run around on the beach in the smallest of bikinis and men are wearing oversized baggy trunks.
Then something goes awry in the mind. It’s as if the human brain starts to short out, wires start to get crossed and the brain starts to scramble — when a 60-plus-year-old man goes into town and buys the smallest, tightest swimming garment that he can find to squeeze himself and his “crown jewels” into, not to mention the bling that goes with this eyesore.
However, our female counterparts wake up one morning and decide it’s time to start covering up. So, she goes into town to look for swimming apparel that will give her maximum coverage possible and not to mention the massive straw hat that comes with it. Then off they go to the beach and as soon as the towels are placed on the sand, our Greg Louganis wannabe is down at the water's edge usually with his hand behind his back parading along the entire beach as if to say, “After all these years, I still got the goods, ladies.”
What I propose is that the manufacturers of these “banana hammocks” pose some sort of weight and age restriction on these things. You know, like clothing tags sewn into the back giving the size? Instead, it could have the letters “AR”, meaning “age-restricted” so that old people won’t be able to buy them.