Don't Wear Your Shorts

I came back from bonny Scotland all right- but not alone. I swear that some of those blasted midges came over the border with me.
Snuck their evil little selves onto my person, and enjoyed a good chew. Evil buggers.
Forget about admiring the scenery, just run for the bar.



No wonder, all the locals go around, muffled head to toe. I soon found out why I never saw anyone outside the pub. The midges, always on the lookout for some juicy flesh, descended in a swarm on any idiot who took a moment to admire the sunset.



Do what the locals do. Hug the bar, and look out the window.

Of course, my researches have uncovered the origin of the Highland fling – the midges. Lets face it, the poor wee Scots had to do something.



For some reason, the pesky critters took a liking to the Pirate. Yum, yum, cordon bleu time. Sure thing, they eat anyone, but what a Scotty midge likes best, is ‘Pirate’.




The rotten sods even bit him up the nose – well, I can think of worse places.
A warning to all you blokes, ‘Don’t wear your shorts.’
Sun shining…? Heed my warning.
I’m sure you get the picture.

A final kindly word from your Aunt Fred. Don’t despair, I found the answer for you. This is ‘The first line of defence.’



I kid you not.
This contraption is available from ‘Any good retailer’.
Yep.