Edition 9: Should men wear Uggs?

Good morning Negative-Soundbyters and welcome to the 9th edition of NSB. How does it feel to be back at the swamp? (I shouldn’t of course dismiss those readers who are fulltime Mums and who might constantly feel swamped by snappy kids and errant husbands!) I can confirm that I am still on the breadline while Mrs H battles it out in the trenches. Life-on-the-line is relaxed and genteel; I get to eat, write to you guys, build model planes, go to the gym, eat, do some drawing, hang out with the Rastas at the top of my road and smoke some weed, eat, watch Neflix, read, go to the bed. (It’s chilled.) Queue massively arched eyebrow from Mrs H!! Moving on swiftly…!

What is on the agenda as far as geopolitical events are concerned?

I picked up this titbit on the newswires this past week. (Generally speaking I try and avoid the news these days; staying “informed” depresses me and leads to more frequent trips to the top of my road ☺.)

According to the British Red Cross, the NHS is in the midst of a “humanitarian crisis”.

Say what?

You tell me what comes to mind these days when you hear the term “humanitarian crisis”? Certainly in a recent context I am thinking hospitals being blown up in Aleppo by Syrian and Russian planes. This from a doctor in the city after it’s trauma hospital had been bombed for the 3rd time in late 2016:

"The hospital is now out of service completely," radiologist Mohammad Abu Rajab was quoted by Reuters as saying. "There's destruction to walls, infrastructure, equipment and generators. There are no more guards or staff left. It's complete darkness."

That has more a “crisis” feel about it than a service that has 463 hospitals or related groups and a budget of c. £120 billion. And let’s not forget about the 7,600 GP practices and 850 charities/NGOs delivering services to NHS patients across 7,300 locations.

All my interactions with the NHS in the 16 odd years I have been here in the UK have been reasonably good and I have never had to dodge a single barrel bomb. In fact Mrs H frequently visits various hospitals for her job and she assures me that the lights are still on. Of course there are going to be times when things don’t go according to plan but just because Little Johnny fell off the jungle gym and stubbed his toe and wasn’t seen the moment he arrived at A&E, doesn’t make for a system that is in “crisis”?

I can tell you what is a humanitarian crisis in-the-making is this continuing fiasco with Southern Fail. I wonder how the Head of the British Red Cross would describe this “service”?

Bah humbug.

But lets move on to happier things; this week’s anecdote and possibly as controversial – “should men wear Uggs?”

Big love to all.

Hoddy

PS: In case a prospective employer ever reads this and thinks that I do actually smoke, it’s just on the weekends maaaaaaaaaan….(emoji wink-face because I can’t wank on Word, sorry wink - eish!)

Ugg Boots.

Yup I own a pair of these bad boys. Mrs H purchased them a few years back and I put them on and wow, my feet felt so snuggly that I decided to wear them in public. In fact I remember their first appearance; it was at Twickenham and the Bokke were playing England. Uggs would not necessarily be my “go-to” boot for such on occasion; veld skoene (Afrikaans for “veld shoe” in case you missed that!) would be more appropriate given the audience but given that I am in touch with my manhood (no I didn’t say that I touched my manhood – easy there!) I felt confident enough to debut them. However I didn’t tuck my jeans into them for fear of taking a klap from one of my own supporters. It’s one thing wearing an Ugg boot, it’s quite another showing them off around very large Afrikaners who have been swigging from a brandewyn bottle the entire afternoon!

I can safely say that in my posse I am the only one who owns a pair of Uggs, unless of course you count the chickens all of whom own a pair. And it’s fair to say that I have taken some heat for donning this footwear when winter has set in. I can’t really understand why!

According to the font of all knowledge, Wikipedia:

“Ugg boots (sometimes called uggs) are a unisex style of sheepskin boot originating in Australia and New Zealand……worn for warmth, and which were often worn by surfers during the 1960s”.

It does not say: Ugg boots are a style of sheepskin boot that should only be worn by women, unless you think you are Peter Andre!

And please note the surfer reference. So not only are they “unisex” but they were also worn by surfers in the early days; quo dos to me for being much cooler by association than I thought I actually was!

But the heat has got to me over the years; the put downs; the raggings; - so finally I hung up my Uggs and they have been quietly gathering dust at the top of my cupboard ever since. Until last week that is!

I needed to run a few errands in Fulham. It was cold, so selection of an appropriate shoe was important. The area is also very fashionable and “metro” is most certainly acceptable alongside botox’ed lips, foreheads, cheeks, chins and winter suntans. I don’t have any botox and I am as white as a ghost, but I had an ace up my sleeve; my Uggs! Oh yes….

And not only that, I decided to go all out – and tuck my jeans in so that the Fulham set wouldn’t fail to notice that this hombre had come out of the closet…er…or should I say that his Uggs had been retrieved from said closet!

Gay Pride can kiss my ass. I sauntered down the Fulham Road with “Ugg-Pride”. I had my big sunnies on, oversized scarf (an important accessory – the longer the better. That’s indeed what my last girlfriend once said…watch it Hoddy, Mrs H reads these posts….); bomber jacket, skinny jeans, leather bangles and the pièce de résistance, my treasured twin-faced sheepskin Uggs with fleece on the inside, a tanned outer surface and a synthetic sole.

I had a number of “Ugg-Offs” as well with a couple of local Fulham chickens, which I smashed – obvs – and I sent them scurrying in my Ugg-fueled wake. Peter Andre would have been proud!

Later, over my £4.20 pressed carrot juice (at a local French deli because a carrot which costs 10p and a unit of minimum wage labour to make it – say 30p – means that £4.20 is not a rip off!), I reflected on my “rekindled” love for said Uggs and I came to the conclusion that being comfortable in your own Uggs and not worrying what other people think of you, makes for a much happier, more content life.

No you weren’t Hoddy, you were just trying to work out how to sell a £25 breakfast-for-one to Mrs H when you are supposed to be on-the-line! ☺

OUT

Pic of the Week:

Check out these bad boys! As well as my favourite Christmas pyjama pants. In fact this type of outfit is not out of place in my local Tescos!