Saturday, October 29, 2005

Puhleeze! Put it back on!

Disturbing murmurings from Canada about the current surge in popularity of do-it-yourself nude calendars in the Great White North. Oh, my! What an odd thing to do! Isn't it cold up there? Seems no one's immune - including kaumatua - ewww! [Kinda reminds me of the equally baffling & thankfully short-lived "get nekkid against the Iraq war" protest phenomenon.] What strange sociological forces could be at play here? Why the exhibitionist calendar fad? What could these pitiful lapses into undignified disrobing en masse signify? Have these women no shame?

More chillingly, could NZ be next? Could a similar outbreak of Mad Bird-of-the-month Flu erupt here? And what of the ghastly possibility that Parliament could become infected. Would God be cruel enough to smite us for our sins of mediocrity by punishing us with a "Babes of Labour 2005" edition? Imagine, if you dare:

Jan: Ms Wilson clad only in judge's wig, gavel aloft with reprimanding smirk
Feb: the voluptuous Ms Hobbes reclining with Rubensesque splendour
Mar: the eerily ambiguous Mr(s) Beyer bathed in the hazy red glow of a corner streetlamp
Apr: the cherubic Ms Mahuta coyly toying a tactfully placed ponga frond
May: a whip-cracking, studded-leather dominatrix Clark (that's not hard to imagine)
Jun: a lei-toting Ms Laban, flower in ear reposing topless in Gaugin's Sth Pacific paradise
Jul: an earnest-faced Ms King writhing playfully upon a scattered heap of speeding tickets
Aug: Ms Chadwick's scarlet pout drawing on lit ciggy against a backdrop of pint glasses
Sep: Ms Dalziel lying (in unison) on a guinea pig-skin rug
Oct: Heather Simpson beguiling us with her boyish come-hither gaze thru 2 inch lenses
Nov: wine rivulets glistening on Ms Dyson's bare skin, astride a crashed car
Dec: the
skimpy pole of a union protest banner barely concealing Ms Street's nether-wheres

Help! I've gone blind!

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