Promenading down the prom prom prom

Living near the sea is a pleasant experience, especially when it is hot as it has been for the past couple of days. My wife and I have taken to meandering along the Hoe, here in Sunny Plymouth, enjoying the cooling sea breezes, an ice cream or iced coffee and the sight of the local chavs and chavettes throwing themselves off the sea wall into the sea, like lemmings (one would hope).

Now, despite the overwhelming urge to provided encouragement and indeed practical help (like a good shove in the back) to these shivering youngsters who stand teetering on the wall summing up the courage to leap out past the back breaking rocks into the sea a good twenty or thirty feet below, I am at a bit of a loss to understand their fashion sense.

Most of these kids, mostly male I might add, are wearing wetsuits (apart from the few who are brave or just too poor to own a wetsuit) but they are also wearing shorts over the wetsuit! What is that about? Are these boys so self conscious that they have to cover their groins, that are already encased in about one eight of an inch in neoprene, with a pair of shorts. Maybe they are scared that the girls, who they are clearly trying to impress, as there is always a group of be-tattooed blonde bimbettes hanging over the wall screaming epithets at their hero’s as they surface once again, blowing the briny ocean out of their lungs, scared that the girls will notice a slight bulge in their suits and presume that they, god forbid, have cocks?

Maybe they are worried that the fear and the impact of the cold water on their genitals would actually mean that there isn’t even a bulge to show off, maybe that’s an even greater fear for a pubescent teenager intent on showing off his prowess and bravery by leaping into the sea. And no doubt if they used a sock or two balled up to provide a suitable bulge, they would, no doubt after a few leaps and dowsings make their way down the wetsuit leg to hang flapping like a slightly off white flag of shame for all to see and rag upon.

I can also understand the need to wear trainers for the great leap, as they have to scramble up rocks to get back onto the wall, but socks as well? I am sure that if these kids actually knew how stupid they looked, they would all throw themselves off the wall without a second thought whilst holding the concrete block they had chained around their necks, never to surface again. But I guess if they all do it then they’re not stupid, because it’s the done thing.

And I, of course, never ever looked stupid on the beach in the hand knitted costume my mum knitted for me!