Eat My Shorts

Canada. An interesting place to live. The cold must be responsible for quite a large number of notable behavioural peculiarities, evidenced by that most reliable of publications, the Red Deer Advocate.

A gentleman from Alberta, having soaked himself in the good stuff with rather too much enthusiasm, quite rightly called it a night and drove himself home, extensive quantities of the cream of the barley plashing behind his tonsils. His subsequent erratic manoeuvrings in his motor vehicle brought unwelcome attention from the RCMP. Realising he was blotto, and with remarkable presence of mind, he did what any sensible person would do, removed his cotton-rich underwear and stuffed them into his mouth, in the belief that their qualities of absorbency might soak up the booze. Absolutely. Entirely understandable.

A couple from Cambridge, which I gather is also in Alberta, curiously,  took a trip last July to Flying Mission Ministries, Botswana with suitcases laden with - yes - underwear for orphaned children, which is something of a luxury for them, it would seem. “We are going to Botswana to cover little Botswanan bottoms,” said Mark Boughan. “God brings lots of surprises into people’s lives.” 
Mr Boughan is a Baptist.


Quite so. Hopefully the recipients will not be tempted to eat them for breakfast.