We went somehow with colleagues on a Friday evening in the sauna with a large male company. They got together as they should, drank in moderation, spoke from heart and slowly walked around the houses. One will leave, then a few will leave. The most persistent go the last, and one says:

Where are my cowards? I put them in the jeans pocket and hanged the jeans in the dressing room on the hook. Jeans are here, but no cowards in the pocket.

They sought, sympathized with him, he squeezed from the heart and went home without cowards. Stretched the jeans right on his naked ass and the width of the MPH barely stuck. I don’t know how they met him at home and whether he managed to hide from his wife the absence of cowards... But he knew it!

And another colleague, who left a little earlier, was met by his wife and teenage daughter at the entrance to the apartment and from the back pocket of jeans his wife was solemnly pulled out stylish "boxers" Calvin Klein.