Houston, We Have A Problem

One of the astronauts who spent time on the International Space Station went for a month without changing his pants. That's his underpants.

Skivvees, drawers, boxers, briefs, smalls, jockeys, Hanes(TM), Fruit of the Looms(TM), male panties, bloke knickers, butt-huggers, flap pants, sack supporters, crotch cushions, groin grabbers, skid pads, wedgie weapons... whatever you call them, astronaut Koichi Wakata's stayed firmly glued to his body for a period of between 29 and 31 days.

Not since Stew published a story about the psycho astronaut who drove cross-country in astronaut diapers have I been so amazed and appalled by the space program at the same time.

Now, obviously these were no ordinary undergarments. The Scotsman.com described them as "anti-static, flame-resistant, odour-eating, bacteria-killing, water-absorbent smalls." I half-suspect they could shoot lasers and were anti-radioactive as well. Why not go the whole mile and make a pair of pants that can light a cigarette and pour a glass of Chianti?

All this to see if mankind can develop underwear that needs no changing. That's like building a toilet that you won't have to flush: optimistic to a fault.

Mr. Wakata also revealed that he had eaten normally during the pants experiment, including several curries. Well, there's no arguing that they didn't test the things properly.

I can't really see a market for such garments, except among the more affluent hobos and popular musicians. Still, price that second group right and these could be a moneymaker*. The rest of us though want to be able to keep down the next curry. I'll pass on this space underwear, as opposed to passing in them.

*Please though, do not feel any need to shake that particular moneymaker. There might be leakage.