One can tell when my male staff's mad sister is in Australia because strange headlines begin to appear in the newspapers. "MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN CAUTIONED FOR BARING BREASTS" for example. She and long suffering husband flew to Perth for a week recently to give my staff a bit of a break from their insanity. Sadly the insanity that my staff were spared was subsequently unleashed upon the unsuspecting citizens of the fair city of Perth.
Leaving long suffering husband at their accommodation to do man things like change light bulbs, watch Jean-Claude Van Damme movies, drink beer and pee in the bathroom sink, she walked up to King's Park - a lovely chunk of Aussie bush in the centre of the city. Here she mooched about admiring the views across the Swan River and the Perth city skyline, which due to poor planning looks like a nine year old kid's Lego approximation of a futuristic metropolis. After a while hunger began gnawing at her tummy bones like a ravenous guinea pig on a piece of cucumber. She therefore dived into the cafeteria and purchased a bowl of chips. (Fries, if you live on the wrong side of the Pacific.) These chips came with a small plastic container of tomato ketchup of a kind that mad sister had never seen before. The idea is to squeeze both ends of the container and aim the resulting jet of ketchup at one's chips.
Being British and unfamiliar with this highly complex piece of Australian technology, mad sister twisted it, turned it, poked it and tried to peel off the lid. Finally in frustrated desperation she squeezed it and was rewarded with an explosive squirt of ketchup which coated both her face and front of her pristine white tee-shirt. Looking around, she saw that the nearest napkins were ten metres away across the cafe by the till. To get one would mean elbowing her way through the other customers and she thought that would just be too embarrassing. She noticed a rest room over in an unpopulated corner of the room and decided to make for that once she's consumed her chips. Having hissed several four letter words under her breath she thought that the best thing to do in a crowded cafe was to pretend that it is perfectly normal for a British tourist to eat as bowl of chips whilst wearing half a litre of ketchup. So she sat there eating her chips, wiping each one on her face or shirt in order to give it a coating of sauce before popping it into her mouth. This very slightly diminished the amount of ketchup but gave her a rather greasy complexion.
With as much dignity as she could muster she finished her chips and made her way to the restroom as inconspicuously as it possible for a woman who looks like she's been on the losing end of a knife fight can.
Nevertheless she still had to pass several people on the way, all of whom regarding her with varying degrees of alarm. Some of them even fumbled for their cell phones and made urgent calls to the emergency services.
Meanwhile mad sister entered the restroom, removed her shirt, rinsed it out and washed her face. Feeling a little better, she wrung out her shirt, put it back on and re-entered the cafe. To her surprise this caused even more alarmed glances from her fellow patrons. Small children were being whisked up by concerned mothers who glared at mad sister as if she had just bared her breasts at them; which is funny, because she had. Her half dry white tee-shirt was now totally see through and she had become a one woman wet tee-shirt contest.
She later admitted to being somewhat disappointed that being the only contestant in a wet tee-shirt contest she was still unable to get a place on the podium. Still, at least the nice young policeman who was summoned to attend the cafe by the frightened customers who thought they'd witnessed the death throes of a victim of a bloody crime was understanding and averted his eyes from her wet tee-shirt. More disappointment.
What's all the fuss about human mammary glands? I prefer feet any day.