The manager of the safari camp is facing a grave moral dilemma:
“I don’t approve of what that photographer did, but I still want to see Kate’s boobs,” he said.
“I suggest you fight your voyeuristic urge,” I advised. “When I was in the circus, there was a clown who had a craving to be pissed on the face by a fat woman. When he finally gave into it, he felt dirty afterwards.”
“Well he would, wouldn’t he?” said the manager. “I’m surprised he found someone who agreed to do it.”
“Every fat woman has her price,” I remarked.
“That’s all very well, but my situation is different. Suppose one of the guests has a magazine with her picture in it. What am I supposed to do? Close my eyes?”
“You could provide the guest with a strip of adhesive tape to mask the duchess’s dumplings. If no one else can see them, you won’t feel so deprived.”
The manager sighed and looked to the heavens for guidance.
The latest news on this scandal is that the man who took the pictures is English. I can well believe it. There is something very un-French about secretly photographing a topless woman. When the Frenchman sees an agreeable pair of titties, he likes to observe them at close range and make the owner aware of his admiration. The obsession with still images of the bosom is a very English fetish.
Kate should be glad that he’s English, because it means he can be charged with treason. I’m sure he’ll get a fair trial before the jury convict him. What would be an appropriate sentence in this day in age? I would recommend squirting lemon juice in his eyes while electrocuting his nipples. A harsh penalty, to be sure, but one has to make an example of such guttersnipes to discourage other traitors in his profession.
A question of more than academic interest is why pictures of Kate’s royal rack are such a hot commodity. Three years ago, she was a middle-class English girl whose bust wouldn’t have turned many heads at a building site. Did marrying a prince automatically perk-up her puppies, causing her nipples to point at a higher angle of elevation?
My old friend Smacker Ramrod is the expert I consult on boob-related issues, so I put this question to him. He assured me that admirers of the female bosom would have been just as eager to see Kate’s jahoobies before she became a royal duchess. The big change, he said, was in the quality of the conversation piece thus acquired. No one is interested in hearing you talk about your neighbour’s norks if that neighbour is a nobody. But if you have have seen a famous pair of jugs, you may discuss their qualities at length, while speculating on the manner of their deployment in the recreational activities for which they were designed.
I think he hit the nail on the head, don’t you? Talking about what you've seen is half the fun for humans.
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