Ah. I see.
When I were a lad, my Dad told me about the time he and his brother Terry went to watch a Fulham game in the 70s.

Now, Uncle Terry was a rather obese gentleman with a terrible drink problem and poor digestive health - resulting in the unfortunate fact that when Fulham scored the winner, he celebrated a little too over-vigorously and thoroughly shat his pants.

They left Craven Cottage and before catching the train home dashed into Marks & Spencers, wherein Terry hurriedly purchased a replacement set of pant & trouser.

Once on the train Terry rushed to the toilet, stripped off, cleaned his arse up a bit, and threw the shit-befouled garments out of the window. He opened the M&S carrier bag to take out the fresh ones....

and inside was a ladies' cardigan.

As I say, this story was related to me as gospel by my own father who swore he was there at the time and saw it with his own two eyes. I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever heard and used it as my best story throughout the remainder of my youth.

Then one day, years later, I was out for a drink with a mate who started to tell me the story of how his dad and uncle once went to a football game....
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(Ali Bongo 9000 Ali Bongo 9000, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 17:03, Reply)