psy-pants

garment generally worn by psychedelic voyagers whilst tripping the hyperreal sp-ceways of untime. provide complete protection against all common dangers such journeys frequently involve; house music, bad energy dragging you down, politicians, psychedelic love juice, bad trips, alien death rays, and jeremy beadle.

the only force loud enough to break down the psy-pants’ defensive barrier is techno and even then it must be excessively filthy and sustained continuously for several days to have any noticable effect.

psy-pants are hard to spot since they employ a holographic emitter which makes them look like moth-eaten old corduroy.

they can be purchased from any reputable druid, uv glow stall, or head shop, and need no batteries since they are powered by cosmic energy.
billy held the flame to the bowl, igniting the minute quant-ty of powder he’d carefully weighed up about an hour earlier. it burned rigorously, the pale smoke filling his lungs with its complex chemistry. as he held his breath, the toxin slowly crossing the membrane into his blood stream, one unnerving thought struck home: he’d forgotten his psy-pants. he exhaled, but it was already too late…
”’psy-pants chilly”’

psy-pants nights are frequented by sickly hippy folk that need there smiles ripping off there self-righteous, smelly faces. everyone is that horribly nice and friendly it generally makes normal people want to scr-pe their own skin off their face in pure frustration at how stupid the whole thing is.
psy-panters can be spotted by their complete and utter friendliness to anyone ever. in fact they will happily suck your d-ck if you asked nicely(or gave them a pill)
psy-gay folk can be spotted by their foolish attire,sporting allkinds of h-m–erotic beads,neon stupidness and other psy-w-nk campness(as long as its bright and gay your in the club)
psy-pants listeners are usually that horrendously druggedup to their eye-b-lls they can hardly hear anything anyway, good job then as the whole genre is based around the same tune.if you ever decide to venture into a psy-tw-t rave, be careful, you might come out a moron.
jimbo-‘hey shall we go to that stupid psy-pants rave?’
bill-‘nah im not a useless hippy piece of sh-t, sorry mate’