Archives for the month of: March, 2012

The gusset starts life as an innocent little piece of cotton sewn between the leg-holes of female smalls, this is a symbiotic relationship, since both knickers and gusset need each other for basic survival. Whether the gusset has any comprehension of its fate as it sits inside a pair of knickers hanging jauntily in a lingerie display, is as yet uncertain. Evidence suggests it is likely it has no idea that it will become soiled and grotty, and spends the early part of its existence excited about its future. But while it waits for a wearer, it soon has to come to terms with the fact that it is largely ignored. The knickers themselves are admired and examined, and it is strongly suspected the gusset soon laments its relative anonymity. It is not uncommon that these early experiences render it somewhat catatonic, as if it were an alcoholic drowning its sorrows in the bottle (not without irony as it will soon find itself drowning in the liquor of great human splendour). According to the latest research, the gusset quickly develops aspirations for fame and attention, which are sadly unrequited—until that is, it is rather old or has been the absorber of some hapless accident. At such time, especially if the knickers in which it dwells are particularly loved or expensive, the gusset’s sullied appearance is mourned and mooned over. It becomes the centre of regret, grief even, and is appreciated in retrospect for its original perfection and innocence. This sweet, stained little piece of cotton has, after all, cupped a pretty picnic, tenderly enveloping the delicious spoils in comfort and warmth, forever sopping up all manner of secret spills. At such time, the gusset, it is believed, gains a solid sense of self worth despite its compromised appearance. It realises it is necessary.

(warning: content may offend)

The long and the short of it is: these 3 little words are front page heaven and make for bigger newspaper sales.

gusset bulletin 1: See new page: making of the big bad wolf

gusset bulletin 2: See new page: fast gusset

gusset bulletin 3: gusset gallery  update

Me, when I was seven, I had this bully friend and she, this hurly-burly fiend, she had this fetish for Lucky Knickers. In her world, it was a dead cert that if she wore them she always won a fight, always had her way, and was boss-girl supreme. This pig-headed gnasher, she would parade herself about with her hands on her hips, elbows jutting out, her mean piggy snout looking for trouble. Me, I was her pathetic little slave, lamely pulled along inside her shadow by her darker forces. I dreamt that one day, one day, I would give her a knuckle sandwich for tea, a juicy steak of fist, while meantime I yelled yellow insults at her from inside my head. Wazak! PIG! Ah me, I never did think to name my knickers Lucky and lick her when hers were in the wash.

Bunny that I am, me, I get to brooding on the other side of luck. The ‘Un’. Like the time when I was nine, and I was walking home from school through the woods and had this urge, this terrible urge to go—you get me. I needed a poo. Smack out of nowhere. I stopped and I waited, wringing my pegs one around the other, and I begged and I begged, sweat sopping my brow, heat mauling my mug. But try as I might, my crinkled little kiss of a bum-hole, it just couldn’t stop the journey my poo was bent on making, from out of the tunnel of my curly bowels, into the light of day. Yes, out it snaked, happy as Larry, slow at first, then packing my pants in a slurry of stinky ploop. Some say that Thomas Crapper invented the flush toilet, while others dissent, but it’s widely accepted he came up with the ballcock. Had he been thinking environmentally he might have come up with an earth loo, a self-composting situation. But I digress—although who’s to say Crapper wasn’t wearing his Lucky Smalls when he was flushed(!) with his nutsprick idea?

But luck, surely, it’s simply a state of mind—no? It’s an idea. A concept. It doesn’t actually exist—does it? You can be feeling lucky and circumstance can overwhelm your mind-state and unlucky things can happen. Equally, your mind can tell you you’re lucky and you are. The power of the mind is at issue. Plus cultural mind-set, superstition, belief. Is luck a religion?

Me, I get to thinking, it could be useful to wear your Lucky Knickers on important dates: with a boy/girl you fancy; for an interview; for an exam. I suppose Unlucky Knickers only become so after the event, and then spend the rest of their days knocking about, abandoned in the bottom of an undies drawer…