Friday 12 May 2017

Where's My Pants Version 2.0

I am faced with a crisis of epic proportions. As I sit typing these words, I am literally pant-less.

Upon perfecting the prototype Self-Cleaning underpants, I gave the rest of my underwear away; stuck it all in one of those charity bags they keep shoving through the door. My pants are probably now being worn by some street urchin in Bangladesh. I never thought I’d miss them, not with my Perma-Pants in place.

But after the devious Sebastian Minky stole my Perma-Pants, I am now faced with the hideous prospect of going commando for the rest of my days. I cannot allow this to happen. I have to get my pants back.

Before I go into any detail about my devious pant-retrieval plan, I feel a brief history lesson is in order; a little background information on those damned Minky Brothers, just to make sure you fully understand the vastness of the task I am facing.

Minky Bros Ltd began life in the early eighteen-hundreds, founded by Tobias and Ebenezer, a couple of hardcore Christian fundamentalists who held the belief that cleanliness was right up there with Godliness. They sold handmade soap, guaranteed to wash away sin from even the dirtiest parts of your body, from a market stall in their hometown of Cob. Success came quickly; from the stall they graduated to a shop, to two shops to three. By eighteen-fifty they were exporting soap all over the world, keeping the British Empire clean.

Their fame and reputation grew. As Queen Victoria bestowed upon them a Royal Warrant, she was heard to confide to the Archbishop of Canterbury, “Ever since I started using Minky Bros Cunt Soap, my giblets have been as clean as a whistle”.

At the advent of the new century, Minky Bros Ltd set out to realise its vision of an entirely clean and fragrant world, and work began on the building of a new town. Cleanville, as it became known, housed the Minky Bros workforce and their families; by day the menfolk toiled in the factory, while the women scrubbed every nook and cranny. A nineteen-twenty gazetteer said of Cleanville, ‘the pavements are so spotless you could eat your dinner off them’.  

To this day, Minky Bros remains a leading manufacturer of soap and laundry detergent. They boast a bestselling range of intimate hygiene products, with such famous household brands as Pube Shampoo, Foaming Cock Wash and Minge Polish under their umbrella. It is said that every home in Britain has at least one Minky Bros product lurking somewhere within its cupboards.

Of course, the owners are multi-millionaires, and of course, they don’t like the idea of some upstart like me threatening their business interests with my Self-Cleaning underpants. But I will not be cowed; I will strike back at these oligarchs and take back what is rightfully mine.


Pant-Wars starts here.

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