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This issue: Jogging pants and Death Metal... in God’s name, why?
Eighties fashions were shit. Or so people will try and tell you. Ignore them... the nineties were worse. The nadir, of course, arrived with the feckless wasterage of Grunge and its aborted offspring, Nu Metal.
Anyhows, it was almost as bad in the Death Metal scene around ‘90-’92, when you could throw a few quid to Dig at Earache and strut down the road, feeling METAL AS FUK, in a pair of electric-blue pyjama bottoms emblazoned with ‘Massacre’ or ‘Nocturnus’. Did the public not quake in fear...
 Fortunately, this deviant trend was shortlived, as the perils of loose-fitting jogging pants became abundantly clear. The snapping of waistband elastic at maximum gurn. The all-too predictable on-stage debaggings. Arriving back at earth with nay breeks following stage-diving. But perhaps the starkest warning came during a high profile Obituary gig, where vocalist John Tardy sustained a spontaneous erection of such magnificent girth and turgidity that his flexible waistband could not contain it... alas, the rest of the band was forced to cut short the set whilst he was orally serviced by a hairy-arsed drum techie. Reports that John actually gargled his own cum in order to achieve those lung-defying vocal theatrics remain unconfirmed.
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