Chip Dale's Underwear Tips, Volume 28

‘Underwear for big genitals’!

Doesn’t that just say it all? Months or writing this blog and it has become the top search destination for people unnaturally blessed below the belt line. There are days when I seriously consider abandoning this blogging lark. Days when I think there aren’t enough people reading. There are days when I wonder if the people who are reading are quite understanding what they’re reading. But never have I imagined that I’d become the authority on surgical supports, trusses, and ‘underwear for big genitals’. Do I really want to be read by a person who’d type that into Google? What can I say except I hope they found what they were looking for?

As worrying as this development is, it does raise an important questions. Does this blog really cater to those of us who keep more in our pockets than our car keys and a rolled up copy of the Exchange and Mart? I think it's only right for every prospective leader of the Liberal Democrats to say where they stand on these important issues. Is a thong big enough? Where can the larger man (or indeed lady) purchase generously proportioned thongs? What kind of tonnage can a thong take and does it put unnatural stresses on the buttocks? Clearly, Sir Ming could never answer any of these questions and that’s why he had to go. I can, so perhaps I should stay.

We should begin with the basics. The well-stressed pouch applies a force of forty two Newtons per square inch of silk across the buttocks on a normally sized man. It's a key figure in the mathematics that follow. Times that by the square root of your droop and you'll have the coefficient I like to call Mildred. Mildred to the power of ten is approximately the right width of your pouch, which, when raised to the power of twelve, tells you how much stretch you will require in your downward bounce.

In the larger gentleman, the droop figure tends to be a multiple of seven. So, for every additional centimeter you must times it by two, add pi, drop it down a deep well, leave for a month, and then sprinkle with crushed black pepper. You then have your thong adjustment ratio, which you can take to any licensed thong maker and they will be able to make you a thong that won’t unduly stress your hips, nor indeed your buttocks. Thong makers are listed in your Yellow Pages, but due to government legislation which we thong wearers are still trying to get overturned, they are listed under Surgical Supports.

Now, beat that Chris Huhne.

Bangor Beach

If you just measure these things by shrinkage, the Bangor shoreline is not a good place for a man in his underpants to be on a cold day in September. However, give a talented photographer a few filters and a pair of old socks and it's astonishing what they can make of it.

The modelling assignment was the first decent job I’ve had in months but it might not have even happened if I hadn’t been experiencing problems in my relationship with all things Romanian.

For the last fortnight, Gabby just hasn't been happy with my making money from bare-knuckle fighting. After my last match when I poleaxed the UK's bare knuckle gypsy champion, she told me to choose either her or the fighting. I had little choice, especially when she had a knife at my throat, but Gabby seemed genuinely relieved and marked my decision by using up a favour she had with the photographer who does all the shots for the Cheeky Girl albums. It turns out that he was in Wales and looking for somebody to model a pair of underpants. Gabby suggested my name and the date was set for last Friday. You can see the result above.

You might be a bit surprised by the amount of clothes I’m wearing. All I can say is that you all know me well enough by now that it will come as no surprise that I normally won’t allow myself to be photographed in anything more than a thong. But this mattered more to me than my image. My relationship with Gabby was at stake. If I had to wear clothes, thought I, then let them be clothes about to be torn from my windswept body by a chilly south-easterly. It’s the reason for the obvious shrinkage but in a way it makes it more suitable for a family audience.

The photographer promised me that it would look tasteful and I think he’s kept his word. I’m not sure about the dark patches on the sand and I think if he was going to spend so much time airbrushing out my ponytail he might also have touched up the raw human sewage. I can tell you: I barely touched my champagne, the stench was so overpowering.

However, we must all suffer for our art and I hope the picture will bring me more modelling gigs. Just, next time, I want a warmer day. That shrinkage is really quite disappointing.