Excuse me, dahrlings, but...

Praise The Panty God

Just when you think life is meaningless, you read something that springs your droopy cups right back to the Ten-Hut! position. According to the Globe, Pumpkins, La Senza has rediscovered its bra & panty roots. Well, good on them. I always say, you can’t operate a business when you’ve lost sight of your panties.

Take the Turks & Caicos, for instance. Talk about getting caught with your gotchies ‘round your ankles, buttering both sides of your loaf with tax free cash. Ex-Premier Mr. Misick and his wife have apparently been living la vida loca on misappropriated funds and (gasp) bribes. (Looks like the Mrs. may have spent a fair chunk of it on a little cup embellishment herself. Talk about Ten-Hut!) The media is all over the scandal — painting the joint as a corrupt banana republic. Which is most unfortunate, because that same brush tarnishes the good name of the entire tourism industry. As though we all operate on bribes and kickbacks and slush funds – I mean, marketing budgets. We’ve got enough problems with the flu and stuff. No need to get all “legal†here. Overzealous Brits. Raid our panty drawers, why don’t ya! It’s not like they don’t pad their expense reports, eh Mr. Minister? Perverts.

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