To kick-off Fairtrade Fortnight in style, Pants to Poverty took its pants, mad scientist and random liquid nitrogen kegs to London’s South Bank and declared the bad pant amnesty officially open.
You see, there is nothing worse than bad pants. They scare lovers, leave marks on the skin and even bigger marks on the environment cotton producers work in: pesticides, mounting debts, dangerous working conditions for negative pay slips. South Bank Fairground was the occasion to declare truce: bring your bad pants and all shall be forgiven. In the process, you will indulgence in violent pant smashing and get your hands on a good pair of pants.

The method for savage pant killing was particularly ingenuous: for in an era dominated by science, basic stabbing could not do. No Sir, we needed something more cunning: how about freezing your bad pants in liquid nitrogen and then smashing them up with a big fat hammer? Now, that’s better!!

While giant kung-fu bananas were fighting in the background, a few hundred people tried their hand at pant smashing. Though the odd celeb refused to take part in such a display of violence, they gracefully bought a few pairs.

Ah the sweet sound of “kill, kill, kill!”

I know, on the scale of grand schemes that affect world affairs you might think that this isn’t much.

In the Pants to Poverty world, it means everything: a window onto the world, a powerful communication tool, a way to reach out and be heard, a place to meet like-minded people and bounce ideas off each other, a PANTS KINGDOM with no minions or subjects, only an infinite love for good pants and a determination to fight poverty wherever it might be.

Big thanks to all the people at Rolled, Jay, Mike, Enrique, you rock, thanks to Ian for lending his brick-layering skillz so selflessly, Phil for turning things round so quickly, Ben and Jez for jumping in at ridiculous hours, and Jof at Sandbag for making pants-buying a pleasure.