Jim-jam

[…] when I lift back the cover which is a nice bedspread, lilac and purple with little flowers, girly you’d say for a man, I see he’s just got his jim-jam top on but no bottoms, the dirty old monkey, […]

And some mornings she wakes up with just her jim-jam bottoms on, wanting to be a dog.

Her Snoopy jim-jam bottoms were at half mast; she hauled them up with one hand, concerned gaze covertly raking the teenager’s damaged face.

He peeled up the jim-jam top. The movement set her creamy breasts to quivering.

‘Well, Mr Sheffield,’ he said mournfully, ‘ah get pains in m’back when ah put mi jim-jam bottoms on at bedtime.’

At the toilet I reach under my cardigan, start to pull my pyjama bottoms down… and the shower curtain swishes back. With a cry of alarm, my jim-jam bottoms drop to my knees as I fall sideways heavily into the wall. […] Delicate areas reminds me that Martha and Jack are no doubt in their birthday suits in the bath, and my jim-jam bottoms are still down.

Before we do, I want you to remove your jim-jam bottoms, so you’re fully exposed.

Travelling light is essential, so I shall only bring what I bear on my person – thick socks, jim-jam pants, a T-shirt with a rude word on the front – and this diary, as testament to my expedition, and written valediction should the journey go ill.