Why real men don't use umbrellas

Cumbersome and unattractive, brollies quickly turn their gentlemen owners
into wallies. Learn to man up and face the rain, says Michael Hogan 




Barack Obama knows that rain can't hurt him Photo: REUTERS

 <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/journalists/michael-hogan/> 

By Michael Hogan <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/journalists/michael-hogan/> 

8:26AM BST 21 Oct 2014

It’s that time of year again. Summer is over. The cover is back on the
barbecue. The cricket whites are back in the kitbag. The Birkenstocks,
Havaianas and Converse have been swapped for Redwings, Timberlands and
Grensons. The central heating is tentatively turned back on (with frequent
thermostat visits to check its progress, obviously). Yes, autumn has
descended over our great nation like a damp leafy cloak, mid-weight
mackintosh or other seasonally transitional garment. And with autumn comes
rain. And with rain come umbrellas. And with umbrellas come my annual
umbrella rage. 

Umbrellas annoy me. I’ve always thought that umbrellas were inherently
unmanly. As undignified in a man's hand as they are in his cocktail. I think
slightly less of a man if I see him using an umbrella. I know, I know: it’s
my problem, not his. He’s just trying to stay dry. But why is he so obsessed
with this precious dryness? And is an umbrella really the best way? What’s
wrong with a hat, a waterproof jacket, waiting for the downpour to pass or,
hell, just getting wet? 

Umbrellas are fine for women: fragile creatures (I jest) who frequently have
long or elaborate hairdos (I jest not). But for men who aren’t Peter
Stringfellow, Jared Leto, Russell Brand or Kenny G? Not so much. An umbrella
implies over-weening vanity and wimpish fear of the elements - neither of
which are qualities to admire in one’s fellow man. Umbrella (ella-ella) is a
great pop song but there’s a reason why it was performed by Rihanna. It
wouldn’t have been nearly as good sung by, say, Justin Timberlake or
Pharrell Williams. Both of whom prefer a hat anyway. 

They’re a social menace too. With their umbrella up, pedestrians lose
spatial awareness, making it impossible to pass them on pavements without
jeopardising one’s optical safety. With their umbrella down, the collapsible
truncheon-sized ones are fine but the walking stick-sized ones again result
in loss of spatial awareness. They’re often left dangling dangerously at
knee-height or, even worse, crotch level. They turn our rain-lashed streets
into a post-apocalyptic obstacle course. 

Umberella users suddenly open them on busy street corners, endangering the
lives of twice as many passers-by. They close them with a shake in reception
areas and restaurant doorways, showering bystanders. Rain is often
accompanied by wind, which buffets brollies, turns them inside out and makes
them even more treacherous. It’s like the nation's mal-coordinated numpties
have all been issued with super-sized ninja throwing stars. 

Then there’s the “golf umbrella”: a one-man marquee, rarely used for its
golfing purpose and more often as a weapon of mass destruction. The size of
an Eastern European republic, they usually come in naff rainbow colourways
or emblazoned with corporate logos which proclaim “This was a freebie and
I’m a tight-fisted sell-out”. You might as well carry aloft a Travelodge
towel or a biro nicked from Argos. 

Umbrella-wielding men kid themselves they look like a City gent or nouveau
dandy. They don’t. They look like big jessies carrying a parasol. Men
frequently bemoan the fact that they’ve left their umbrella in the office,
pub or on public transport. Take this as an omen. The meteorological and
accessory gods are sending you a message. And that message is “stop being a
wally with a brolly”. 

I’m not a monster. Not a total brollyphobe. Of course there are times when
it’s perfectly acceptable for a man to use an umbrella: when walking to a
formal occasion and not wanting to get one’s sharp suit soaked; when
escorting one’s mother; when walking romantically in the rain with one’s
lady and chivalrously holding an umbrella for two to become one beneath;
graveside at a funeral; golf umbrellas actually being used on the golf
course; if you’re a spy with a poison-tipped one. 

The rest of the time, exercise caution and ask yourself a few searching
questions. Do you really need an umbrella for a short stroll in light rain?
Would a hood, hat or freesheet held over one’s head not suffice? Would it
not be rather bracing to get rained on for a short burst and arrive
somewhere with an air of the outdoorsman, the weather-beaten warrior, with a
slight facial sheen and rakishly slicked hair? 

If you must insist on an umbrella, is it the correct size and style? Are you
carrying it with due diligence? Will an umbrella make you look like a dapper
James Bond type or like an insufferable ninny who believes his own hairdo
takes priority over other people’s physical safety? 

Sure, you can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella. Except I won’t be carrying
one. Let’s get wet together like men. 

                 Thé Mulindwas Communication Group
"With Yoweri Museveni, Ssabassajja and Dr. Kiiza Besigye, Uganda is in
anarchy"
                    Kuungana Mulindwa Mawasiliano Kikundi
"Pamoja na Yoweri Museveni, Ssabassajja na Dk. Kiiza Besigye, Uganda ni
katika machafuko"

 

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