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The Maine bogl

I have just noticed while ‘taking a dump’ (as our American allies so charmingly put it) that my mud-bespattered blue trousers, that I have been wearing for a couple of months now, bear the legend ‘Maine, New England’ embroidered repeatedly around the waistband.

I continue to scan the trousers anxiously, but they yield no further information. I have never yet come across a pair of trousers that called themselves simply, ‘Y0ur Trousers’. Properly explanatory branding would certainly be more helpful, in the hurly-burly of a busy menswear department, than distracting shoppers with the minutiae of US geography. No, silly, those are River Island! Wouldn’t the discovery of trousers under the bed on a cold winter’s morning be more reassuring, if one could be in no doubt about the provenance of the garment?

I’m afraid I associate the name ‘Maine’ with only one thing. Come to think of it, they are cut in a rather unusual way, being fashionably roomy in the knee. Perhaps the word could attach itself to this particular style, like ‘hipsters’, or ‘jodhpurs’? One imagines young, fashion-conscious Americans eyeing one another critically, before pronouncing: ‘Hey man, cool lobsters!’

But what is one to make of underpants labelled ‘Urban Spirit’? I try leaping off the toilet, parkour-style, and land in a mess.


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