Swag is the latest scandal in town

By Bill Odunga

Swag is the confidence to put on something really hideous and then labelling it as cool. I have a seething contempt for the current fashion trends that dudes are embracing. Maybe I am just stuck in the old ages.

Take this guy Jack, for instance, who is a Second Year student at my university.  He prides himself as a fashionista and waltzes around in pants ten sizes too small. It beats me why a self-respecting grown up would be so confident to walk around in pants that accentuate his posterior unless he is a fagot.

Perhaps, he believes it’s hip to be dressed in a ten-year-old girl’s jumpsuit. Unfortunately, as far as I’m concerned, it makes him look like someone with an eating disorder. What even baffles me more is how he manages to fit in, let alone walk in them.

But that is just with his pants. His shirts, nay, tops, are tailored to show off his chest. And I do not mean his muscles, no. I mean his man boobs.

Of course, a little display of muscles is fine, but when you unbutton a shirt three buttons down like some women do in frantic effort to show off their cleavage, then there is a problem.

Don’t get me wrong. I, like many blokes, enjoy the mammary exhibition that women lay out. At least it takes our minds off the political melodrama, even if its just for seconds.  However, we do not appreciate or welcome any man who fancies himself as girl. Seriously, where is the swag in a man parading his tits?

Then there is the other new accessory in town; spectacles. Guys, if you are not suffering from any eye problem, kindly fold those things and put them away. In Jack’s head, I am pretty sure he finds it a little bit exotic. Well, I think it’s a little bit neurotic.

It was in high school that people found spectacles synonymous to intelligence.  I guess to some comrades, high school never really ends.

The highlight of my semester was last week when Jack dropped his wallet while paying for lunch at the cafeteria. He couldn’t bend due to the tight grip his pants had on his body.

Since nobody was eager to help him, he tried squatting, only for the fabric of his pants to give in to the pressure, ripping his pants asunder to expose his white underwear that had red floral imprints.

Everybody in the cafeteria burst into laughter as the poor lad ran out, hands on his rear, furtively trying to hide his girly underwear.