Trouser Trauma

I must speak of a great evil. A silent menace that stirs without warning. It strikes with the speed of a viper and the resilience of a lead bar.  It lurks with grim intent and can awaken any hour of the day. I am of course talking about involuntary erections, surely the most feared of all blights. They  arrive without invite, and in the wrong place can spell disaster. We've all had them; well not if your a girl, of course. That 's a design thing. But anyway, where was I? Oh yes, they save themselves for the most inappropriate moment; those public showers, the  Dr's waiting room. Concerning the latter I've often thought I should warn my GP I advance. Just in case; a bit like making a preemptive apology.  The risks posed by such a merciless predator require a careful counter strategy. Snug fitting under crackers, careful positioning of landing gear. Anything with too much free play and you can end up looking like a Derrick on a north sea oil rig. Light work trousers should be treated with the respect they deserve; no going commando here no matter weather outside. I don't think I could look my colleagues in the  face should the bed snake ping into action at the wrong moment.  And the other risk is that not only the event get's noticed, but by the wrong person, who then draws the wrong conclusions. No, It's not you! You're not my type! So whether in the car or waiting at the bus stop; queuing  at Morrison's or at the vet. You're never safe. This restless menace never sleeps. Beware men of England. Be prepared and forever on your guard. There's nowhere to hide, and running just makes it worse!