Show us yer knickers!

I was flicking through one of the ragloids today and it seems Gardaí are hot on the tail of some heavy breather who's been calling up unsuspecting women to talk dirty to them about their knickers. As opposed to calling them up and talking about dirty knickers. Now that would be sick.

Apparently the 'clever' perv has been calling random women for about six months now, telling them they've won a lingerie voucher from a top store, before proceeding to take down their particulars. Presumably he gets all hot and bothered on the other end and starts tearing at himself while the excited and breathless ladies reveal their vital statistics in anticipation of a few free bras. Gardaí are now warning women not to talk about their knickers to any old punter who rings them up, a solid piece of advice I think, because it'd be all too easy to reveal intimate details to a stranger offering opulent wonders like vouchers for jocks, such as your credit card number, penis size, confession to involvement in the Shergar kidnap and so on.

It all reminds me of a spoof alert email I got sent ages ago:

"Warning. If a man with a clipboard wearing a white coat calls to your door asking to see your cock, DON'T DO IT. HE JUST WANTS TO SEE YOUR COCK!"

What really amused me about the newspaper article though, and by now it really shouldn't, was how the rag pounced on the opportunity to publish pictures of a few scantily-clad females. As in, shock horror, isn't this a terrible carry-on altogether but in the meantime, here's some breasts.

Sigh. Any old excuse. It's like the photos they attach to the agony aunt serials, which might start off in Monday's paper being about something innocent like, say, an ingrown toenail, but by Friday everyone is getting their kit off and having debauched orgy sex while a thought bubble says something like: "This is so wrong, I really love my husband but the sex is mighty and helps me forget all about my ingrown toenail."

Is there anyone out there fooled by this shite?