My mother has always said, from as far back as I can remember—— make sure you wear clean underwear, and make sure it is IN ONE PIECE.
We’ve listened well and these days we even joke about it. But what used to go through my mind when I was younger was that if I ever decided to be careless, may be the day I might get an accident, or get malaria and have to get an injection. And then the doctor would look at me differently.
Now—— to the real reason I’m writing about wearing presentable undergarments.
This good man, someone’s husband, was wearing blue boxer shorts with a huge gash down the back. We were attending a meeting, and discussing “highly delicate diplomatic” issues (thanks Henry Barlow) and in a moment of laughter to ease the seriousness of the discussion, my gaze landed on my neighbor’s back as I shifted in my seat.
You know these eyes, they can develop a mind of their own, its like they work bila the brain. I was scandalized. I quickly averted my gaze. But the damage was done. My brain kicked its engine back into action and this time commanded me to, “Look again!” I looked again. The eyes refused to move away. His shirt had come untucked, and somehow ridden up his back, divorced from the trousers (which had no belt by the way).
And there---- lo and behold!---- was a huge and fat tear, a slash, a split, a rip. It could only mean one thing—- that the underpant was torn.
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The wearer continued to spew very intelligent information, with everybody listening intently.
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