It's Sunday night, it's the end of the month and its Pants Night at Storm. Some think I'm brave, some think I'm foolish, but nevertheless, I am myself with the camera and head on down.

What does one wear to a function like this - the flyer says leather, rubber (blimey, it's far too hot), denim or combat. I'm wearing my combat cut-offs, so that'll have to do.

Well, such an array of undergarments, from novelty satin-effect tanga-briefs to the good old sensible white cotton Y-front - thankfully under the ultra-violet they would all pass the Dazz Doorstep Challenge. The boys appear to have all made a bit of an effort (with the exception of me), but luckily are taking it all with a good pinch of humour. The atmosphere is good, the music is banging and everyone pretty friendly. Mixed ages and mixed body tones. Pants is therefore not pants...