Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Shameless acts
I admit to feeling sorry for the English floozy who was arrested in Malaysia for stripping off on a holy peak. How was she to know that her stunt would offend the local mountain gods, causing them to instigate an earthquake measuring 6.0 on the Richter scale? The local tribespeople wanted her to atone for her sacrilegious act by offering the gods ten buffalo heads, but unfortunately she didn’t have any. The Malaysian authorities then took the law into their own hands by charging her with “causing a nuisance”, which is apparently an imprisonable offence in their country.
Had I been the girl’s defence lawyer, I would have made a plea for mercy by pointing out what she didn’t do. Had she performed her nude caper in one of the Mediterranean resorts frequented by British tourists, the locals would have slapped their foreheads in astonishment at her moderation. In the Costa del Sol, the English woman who strips naked is expected either to perform oral sex on the nearest drunken oaf, or douse her body with an alcoholic beverage for the drunken oaf to lap up like a thirsty wolf. The incident would typically be recorded on a mobile phone to provide her with a serviceable memento. Those who are too inebriated to remember the fun they’ve had now take the precaution of capturing it on a digital device to prove it to themselves afterwards. Such are the blessings of modern technology.
The girl’s father has described her as “a very intelligent, stoic young woman”. I suppose we’ll have to take his word for it. The thin mountain air might have turned Tolstoy into a giddy-headed fool. Now that she’s back at sea level, she should validate her father’s words by giving a seminar on meditating in windy places.
Humans from conservative Asiatic countries often remark on the shamelessness of libertine westerners. What they fail to realise is that repressing feelings of shame is sometimes a virtue. Consider the case of Boris Becker, the former tennis maestro, who impregnated a woman in a restaurant in less time than it takes an Olympic sprinter to win the 100 metres. After DNA tests proved his paternity, he humbly accepted his fate, agreeing to a generous divorce settlement with his wife and maintenance payments for his illegitimate daughter.
The girl, now aged 15, is an aspiring model, and her father is suitably doting. Far from being ashamed at having procreated in circumstances that would make a baboon blush, Becker has described the brief coupling as one of the more felicitous events of his life:
“If that's what I'm remembered for, then I'm proud,” he told a British TV network.
I think Becker’s conduct provides a useful lesson for saucy English wenches who prance around naked in exotic holiday destinations. If you’re going to take your clothes off, make sure you get knocked up by a famous sportsman who thinks doing it standing up is an effective method of contraception. The semen of the alpha male is worth its weight in Estée Lauder face creams.
Labels: Boris Becker, floozie, nudity, public nudity, sacrilege
Monday, February 20, 2012
Northern exposure
I had thought that nude hiking was an exclusively German pastime, but apparently it goes on in England too. A man called Nigel Keer has been arrested by an off-duty policeman during a naked ramble through the Yorkshire countryside. The policeman, who was fully clothed, made the cop after noticing the “disgusted face” of a woman walking her dog.
The policeman’s behaviour looks fishy to me. Why would an officer of the law apprehend a naked man because he saw a woman’s disgusted face? Wouldn’t the sight of his wobbly buttocks be sufficient grounds to take him in for questioning? I suspect this so-called policeman is either a nudist sympathiser or a closet nudist himself. He obviously has no objection to people running around naked unless they happen to upset women walking their dogs. The suspicion of police collusion dangles from this case like a limp piece of flesh. I hope the judge gets to the bottom of it.
The hiker has attempted to justify his unclothed caper by saying that he was unemployed and had nothing better to do:
“It was just something I did to pass the time,” he explained.
I have a certain amount of sympathy for his line of argument. If you’re out of work, going for a naked stroll is far better for body and spirit than watching daytime TV or playing marbles. And as Mr Keer pointed out, there’s a huge difference between honest, bare-arsed nudity and flashing. There was no reason at all for the dog-walking woman to frown disgustedly at him. If that’s how she reacts to a naked man minding his own business, what would she do if some foul wretch pulled down his pants and leered at her? Have a nervous breakdown?
Of course, it’s possible she was disgusted by the man’s body because she found it unsightly. I suspect there are many women who never look at naked men unless they are gazing at statues of Graeco-Roman gods, which exhibit a perfection of form that few real men can attain. It is also evident that these statues are quite modest in the todger department, which in the classical world was viewed as a sign of refinement. Artefacts retrieved from Pompeii indicate that the Romans thought big willies were ludicrous, befitting donkeys rather than men. I dare say there are still many English spinsters who have no idea how grotesque and droopy a man’s genitalia can be.
In view of these mitigating factors, I think Mr Keer is fully justified in appealing against the fine of 315 pounds sterling imposed on him. It’s all very well to sympathise with the woman he offended, but what about his feelings? It can’t be very nice to have someone frown at your private parts as if they were horrible deformed things. Perhaps the best solution would be for Mr Keer to meet the woman fully-clothed and assure her that he meant no affront. The court could then provide her with some photos to convince her that what she saw was nothing out of the ordinary.
Labels: nudity, phallic symbol, public nudity, todger, unemployment
Monday, December 06, 2010
Air pressure
Our guests are complaining about the aggravations of air travel, with its tedious security screening and delays. News of an indignity suffered by a woman in Orlando Airport has added fuel to their grumbling. This hapless female was “randomly” selected for a pat-down search, it being pure coincidence that her bosom resembled a dead-heat in a Zeppelin race (see picture). She claims that the two male security guards who engaged in this impropriety had previously been ogling her chest. I find her story entirely credible and hope that the guilty men are tarred and feathered by a feminist lynch mob.
Big breasts are only a cause for suspicion when the passenger is a male transvestite who might be carrying contraband in his empty bra cups. Even in such cases, it should be possible to detect the subterfuge without squeezing the dubious extrusions. To cop a feel of a woman’s jahoobies on the pretext of a security check is the act of a villain. My friend Smacker Ramrod, the circus vet, said that he never even thought of touching a woman’s breasts until he had (a) bought her dinner, (b) told her she was beautiful, and (c) shown her the scar he got from being bitten by a horse he was examining. I should imagine that Smacker would have refused to give that woman a pat-down search if she had implored him to do so with moist eyes.
Now I don’t need to tell you that the upsurge in airport security has been prompted by the threat of suicide terrorism. Only last Christmas, a young hooligan from Nigeria attempted to bring down a jet by creating an explosion in his underpants. A consequence of this climate of fear is that airlines have become extremely wary of passengers doing anything out of the ordinary. On a recent internal flight in Russia, a 23-year-old man emerged naked from a toilet and skipped gaily down the aisle. Who knows why he did it. As a former circus ape, I have observed that humans sometimes indulge strange whims on the spur of the moment. Psychologists will no doubt find an explanation linked to abnormal activity in the frontal lobes of the brain.
Whatever the reason for his peculiar stunt, common sense should have told the cabin crew that he posed no threat. A naked man has limited options for concealing a deadly weapon on his person. No stick of dynamite was protruding from his rectum. Yet the flight attendants pounced on him while passengers cowered in fear, prompting the pilots to make an emergency landing in Vladivostok.
I am actually surprised that no entrepreneur has set up a nudist airline, whose passengers could be whisked swiftly through security without the usual hoo-hah. It would definitely be the safest form of air travel – I can’t imagine any member of Al Qaeda boarding a flight on which a woman might laugh at his knob or throw a tampon in his face. I must mention this idea to Sir Richard Branson, who in spite of his beard is no fan of bin Laden. He is allegedly rather partial to naked ladies, though.
Labels: air security, Breasts, pat-down search, public nudity
