Re: Tousers of time
I think it's the equivalent of the MkII Escort with the go-faster racing stripe or mag alloy wheels for those past a certain age; a gesture intended to suggest that the beast under the bonnet is not defined by the clapped out bodywork. Clearly, it's important for most of us to have some notion of where we sit in the 'titanic trouser snake' stakes, but modern attitudes or no, staring too hard or directly isn't cricket, so the best we can manage is a peripheral glance. So there's an opportunity for the status conscious 30+ blagger to move a few rungs up the pecking order with a bit of visual deception.
Swagger up to the urinal with your shoulders set wide to enhance the physical prowess you are rapidly shedding and stand with feet well apart to emphasise the great weight you are carrying. When positioned, open the belt and flies as ostentatiously as possible with elbows out, both to further enhance your stature and to make sure no one can get a good look. Then makes as big a deal as possible of extracting mans best friend from the Calvin Klein's, deftly using your hands (spread and well forward) to both mask the mutton monster and simultaneously suggesting you are handling something massive that only a real man can control. At this point it's vital to vent your bladder as loudly and vigourously as possible, as the merest hint of bladder shyness is going to suggest you have something (or rather very little ) to hide. Shake once firmly in a way that suggests whiplash could be an issue, then repack similarly expansively, ensuring that your extra large pocket hanky is correctly positioned for maximum impact on departure.