Brown things on my chest

Today’s illustration is in honour of a debate going on at my Guru’s blog on the subject of nipples. Not the sort used for lubricating mechanical joints but those interesting protrusions which appear on the chests of ladies who have neglected to retain their Liberty bodice when the artist or photographer is about. The problem arises on the illustration of the template and as to whether or not she is displaying her teats. My picture is intended to demonstrate what showing a nipple really looks like. It also demonstrates the phrase 'sticking out like chapel hat pegs'.
I am surprised that the debate has arisen. All girls have them. As indeed, do all guys. Exactly why nipples cause such a frisson in these days amazes me. They are no longer a sexual characteristic (thanks to/damn) page 3 of The Sun. Common place such that I cannot imagine even little boys sniggering when they see them. Any beach will have examples – some of these offend me on grounds of taste. “All that meat and no bread – no wonder the baby’s sick” was my father’s comment on the DDE sizes in my youth. That might be one reason for nipples retaining their fascination – the seaside postcard aspect and smutty joke connection. I’m going to stop – I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of the nubbly bits and will not allow myself to be diverted to my Blue Book of Tit Jokes.
We seem to have advanced slightly in divesting our country of idiot imams. Mind you, it is one thing to have caught rats in a trap. We now need someone with the fortitude to take the trap to the bucket of water. Going on the past performance of our judiciary, it may be premature to think these false prophets will pass. As a somewhat cynical observer, I do find these Agreements with foreign countries that they will not persecute or torture those we evict, to be a little unlikely. When I think of the clown who may end up in Jordan I can see King Hussein again. He always appeared so jovial but it was clear that there was a lot of steel in him – his expression often looked like the cat who had got the cream.
And that brings us back nicely to the opening comment about cat ladies. Night Night children.