Dual Garage / Dining Attire

I have made a discovery of great import, one that could revolutionise the way I dress for all occasions. I have, after years of searching, found a pair of overalls with a zip fly. Not some fiddly, buttoned contraption that requires the dexterity of a concert pianist just to take a leak, but a proper, sensible zip.

These are Parkside bib overalls from Lidl. Who knew that the Germans, in their efficiency, would be the saviours of the incontinent man? Or, in my case, the man who simply cannot be bothered with an impromptu game of 'find the buttonhole' when nature calls.

Now, these overalls are clearly designed for serious work. Reinforced knees, sturdy stitching, enough pockets to lose one’s house keys in several times over. But my wife – ever the pragmatist – has suggested an entirely different use for them.

I should wear them when we go out for a meal.

This is not, as one might assume, because she wishes to cultivate the appearance of a woman dining with a seasoned agricultural labourer. No, it is because she has observed, with the accuracy of a forensic scientist, that I cannot eat a meal without wearing at least some of it. Apparently, I am a magnet for airborne sauce. If there is gravy, it will find its way onto my shirt. If there is soup, I shall inexplicably baptise myself in it. If a single rogue pea can defy gravity, it will land in my lap.

Her reasoning is that the bib overalls offer a built-in napkin, or perhaps a shield, against my inevitable food-based self-sabotage.

And she has a point. The sturdy fabric could withstand a full-scale spaghetti explosion, and with the number of pockets available, I could even keep emergency wet wipes and stain remover on my person at all times. I might look like a retired welder who got lost on his way to the jobsite, but at least I wouldn’t be wearing my meal home.

There is, of course, the social stigma of wearing industrial workwear to a fine dining establishment, but let’s be honest – I am unlikely to be found in a Michelin-starred venue discussing the bouquet of an overpriced Shiraz. More likely, I’ll be in the local pub, hovering over slow cooked belly pork while fending off a pint of still cider or a delicious Argentinian Malbec that’s contemplating a trip down my sleeve.

So, the overalls are staying. If Lidl could just start making them in tweed, I might even wear them to weddings.