ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A local city worker has let curiosity get the better of him again this week as he ducked into Uniqlo, only to discover their timeless Japanese clothes don’t seem to fit his decadent Western meatsack very well.
Following a strict programme of sleeping in, drinking 40 units of alcohol a week, avoiding nearly all exercise, eating takeaway food, and smoking a packet of grey-market Chinese breathmints over the course of a work week, it’s little wonder to Mullard Fresian, a mobile phone salesman, that Uniqlo is often a place of soulful torture for him.
He told The Advocate that he went “chino hunting” yesterday afternoon but ultimately went back to his French Quarter bedsit empty-handed.
“They only go up to 40 in pants. That’s too big for me even, but the legs are about right,” he said.
“Otherwise, my legs look like chicken drumsticks jammed in a cotton condom. You need to have legs like a length of 150mm PVC pipe to wear these things. The shirts, they’re good around the arms and chest. Because I don’t do weights, pretty much. That’s why they fit. But it’s always very tight around my breasts and my gut. I don’t have a gunt, but when I wear Uniqlo clothes, it’s like I’ve been to the tailors and asked them to make sure I have one. And that everyone can see it. It’s so bulbous that if I walk slowly into a wall, it’d be the first thing to touch it.”
“Last time I wore Uniqlo clothes would’ve been a year ago. I actually went down to Sydney for business and I looked that terrible apparently that one bloke in the office there asked if I’d been clothes shopping at Matthew Talbot. I told him I hadn’t been to that clothes shop and he just burst out laughing. All he said was, ‘You stupid fucking Queenslander,’ and spun around on his chair and put his headset back on.”
“Tell you what, but, their undies will outlive Rupert Murdoch they will. Can and will make a tough undie.”
More to come.
