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.
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