the mambo t
Reading T-shirts isn’t easy, plus most of them aren’t worth critical analysis anymore. Because there was a time when what was said on the front of a T-shirt was what you meant.
For instance nobody ever got to wear a Strained Poi T without ever eating some. That and anything with Mick McMahon on the cover. There is always talk about the sixties and bad attitudes but we did have our chestcover shit together, and in solid format. Now some guys wear shirts with tits on them and they smile at you as they go by.
There’s this bloke in front of me today walking down the main road at Lennox and the back of his tough little neck is trawler-hand black, he’s a weathered sixty-kilo nugget about fifty plus and on the back of his T it says ‘ I just want to die young wearing good shorts.’
Not fucken bad eh? Got me. Long sleeves as well.
So I hoved up behind him just outside Parry’s Photo Emporium and said hey mate. ‘ Hey mate! ‘
Had to do it twice before he pulled over and turned his ear and eye to me, so seeing he’d gone for the burley I threw him the hook. ‘Give you fifty bucks for your T-shirt right now!‘
He takes a few steps away but I see him smiling, and before he disappears up some arcade down there I get the bite.
‘Shit! he says back, ‘haven’t worn the fucken thing in twenty years.’
I’m going to start collecting these blokes