Skinny Jeans and The Wurzels

Recently I bought some new jeans. Not because I wanted to, but because I ripped my fav's out clubbing until 7am. Typical me. I don't mean the clubbing part of that statement. They split at 1am as well. So I had a 6-hour-long ability to accidentally flash my legs at everyone. How avant-garde. I wasn't bothered though. A temporary cover-up with my favourite shirt was installed. As mashed up as I was I just gurgled "Go hard or go home, weeyyy!" and kicked my legs about. I worry me.

What I thought I looked like

What I probably looked like.

But that's just stereotypical of me. I'm the King of Inconvenience. Got a banger of a deal on jeans though. Nice plain ones.

Which brings me on to my next topic. My body figure. Yeah, I am large, rotund or globular. Buying jeans is a horrific task. I liked skinny jeans for a while but then I realised I looked like a grape on two toothpicks. So I bought some baggier jeans, and now I look less Thalidomide and more like a person you'd see 3/4's of the way up when choosing your size on an avatar creation scene.

And talking of fashion, I do love my shit-old-shorts. I wear them when I'm gardening. But I've just become a typical Wurzel, lately.

Kinda like this.

I've been doing work in several different gardens for cash, ya see. I'm an every-day Alan Titchmarsh, for the working man. But I'm less of a show-man about it and I haven't yet got crows-feet. Touch wood. I do enjoy a bit of gardening, actually (read that back in a Yorkshire accent), it's got an addictive pace to it. And it's a good work out. Especially when you're deforesting allotments and ponds.

And what about the weather, eh..?