C'mon budgie boys, time to let togs have their day
by Andrew Daddo
February 13, 2011
IT'S time!
The Cole Classic worked brilliantly as an unofficial trial, so let's fire up an organising committee and
celebrate the Festival of the Speedo. Maybe we should call it Slugfest? How
about National Nut Hut Day? Whatever we call it, surely the worm has turned for
the budgie boys to come out from under the boardies
and be properly celebrated. And why not?
For all those people who live in fear of running into someone
wearing a marble sack, the mood in Manly showed there was nothing to worry
about. No fights. No aggro. No cops, no problems,
just a bunch of men in their manskins clogging up the
Corso. We were one and we were many.
And before you get into me for not including the women:
of course they can be part of our festival. It's just that no one sees a woman
in her togs in broad daylight as offensive. Quite the opposite: I've heard neck
muscles snapping as fellas in lowered cars spin their
heads just to get a better look.
So what is it about the ding-a-ling-slings that's so offensive?
I mow in mine. I know, it's a
special little mental picture you're sure to cherish. The other day I was
backing up on the front fence making sure my mowing lines were straight when I
had a tap on the shoulder. I nearly died. "Bloody hell, you scared me to
death!" I barked at Stu from down the road.
"Well bloody hell, yourself," he said.
"You're killing the rest of us. Put some shorts on, would ya?"
His face was all red and shiny, like he'd been the one doing the mowing.
I turned the mower off. "What?"
"You can't mow in your lolly bags. It's offensive."
"But I've just been for a swim. And when I finish,
I'll go for another swim." It's pretty hard to argue with logic like that,
which is why I think he shook his head and rubbed his eyes.
"Put some shoes on, at least," he grunted before he walked away.
Now that was fair enough, so for the sake of safety I put
my boots on and felt a little overdressed. Here's the thing, though. During
summer, there's pretty much nothing you can't do in your pickle pinchers. Even
better, if you're in your Bondi nut buckets, you're
ready for a dip or a run under the hose at a moment's notice. They dry fast,
too.
The Glamorama knob socks are fashionably functional!
I think I told you we spent some time over the holidays
in Crescent Head. One morning I was out early for a swim but the waves were so
good I had to get the board off the car. No boardies,
so I slugged it out in the budgies and started something.
The next time I went out, there were two of us. Then three. One bloke was from the northern beaches.
He said he'd get smashed if he tried surfing the Wedge in his truffle duffles.
I asked him how it felt to actually surf in his Narrabeen nad sacks
and he said: "It's great, isn't it? Liberating! I haven't surfed like this for years!"
There was joy all over his face, and it was just from surfing in his Dee Why dong sarong.
So come on. It seems like there's a day
for everything else, how about a day for the pudding pack?
Let's see if we can turn Speed-eeeeeew! into Speed-do!
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