Carol’s Column

Let’s dress men up for a long life

WHEN Gershon Gerstelbaum turned 107, he celebrated his birthday by riding across the Andes on a yak. This was memorable for three reasons. Firstly because someone of such a venerable age had never before ridden across the Andes and secondly, because the yak only had three legs and for a three-legged yak to cross the Andes, albeit in summer, was considered a major feat.

“It would have been impossible in winter,” Gershon Gerstelbaum was reported to have said at the time, “because of the frostbite factor. If a four-legged yak developed frostbite of his front left leg, he would be able to continue the journey on his surviving legs.

“However, a three-legged yak developing frostbite would be severely hampered.”

Finally, Gershon Gerstelbaum’s journey was memorable because he wore a skirt.

My good friend Betty mentioned Gershon Gerstelbaum at the bookclub meeting during a discussion on longevity.

“I think the answer lies in the fact that Gershon Gerstelbaum wore a skirt,” said Agnes Crump. “You know, it is a known fact that women live longer than men because their bodies are free, so to speak.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” said Bertha Ginkel.

“Think about the anatomy of a man and what he does with it,” retorted Agnes.

Bertha looked shocked.

“I’m talking about the fact that men incarcerate their privates in tight trousers which inhibits them too dreadfully.

“Think about it,” said Agnes. “Women are anatomically designed and neatly packaged for trousers, whereas men, with their somewhat untidy design, should wear skirts.”

Of course, when she put it like that, she was right.

“Furthermore,” she added, “it is a known biological fact that when the body is restricted in any way, it cannot function properly. Thus blood circulation is slowed, cells die and there is a deterioration of a male’s physical condition which eventually leads to an early demise.”

“In other words,” I said, “if a man wears a skirt he’ll live longer. Trousers cripple.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Agnes, “look at the Scots. There are herds of nonagenarian Scotsmen leaping across the Highlands, their skirts and all else swinging free.”

The vision of 7 000 spindly legs hiking through the heather, the wind gently lifting tartan kilts was somewhat enervating.

Nevertheless, the basic theory was sound and the premise logical. You just had to look at a naked man to realise that placing him in a pair of trousers was similar to trying to squash a whale into a sardine can.

“What is needed is a mass movement towards liberating the male,” said Betty.

“This is serious,” agreed Agnes. “We are talking about the longevity of our menfolk. At present, the odds are that when we reach the 80s, we’ll be widows. The chances are that if we change male attire, we’ll extend the lives of our husbands and they’ll live until 110.”

It was an awesome thought. South Africa could become a nation of Gershon Gerstelbaums.

Within half an hour, we’d plotted a campaign to liberate the male. Called “Men’s Lib”, we decided to mount a nation-wide campaign to ban men’s trousers.

In coming weeks, we shall ask leading couturiers to design a skirt in which men feel comfortable yet dignified, and we shall implore community leaders to set an example by abandoning their restrictive trousers.

Imagine Anglo’s Ogilvie Thompson chairing a board meeting in a skirt, a skirted De Klerk in Parliament, Mandela and Buthelezi eventually meeting sans trousers. The benefits to the nation would be boundless.

Tomorrow we march upon the Union Buildings and our slogan is loud and clear “Men of the world unite, for you have nothing to lose but your trousers.”

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