I wouldn't want to call the Saudis sexually repressed or nothin', but...

... apparently, that was an interpretation some chose to scurrilously derive from a previous post of mine¹. I can see, in hind-sight, how this conclusion could have been drawn. It is, of course, possible that I am merely making a desperate attempt at back-pedalling having heard news which proves this position wrong. Actually ...... yes, dear reader, I am sorry to report that this is precisely what I am doing. You see, it turns out that the Saudis have seen fit to hold a beauty contest. Upon hearing this news I was gleefully expecting that all contestants would be wearing, like, burkas or something which would have allowed me once again to poke fun at those wacky Saudis. In actual fact, it turns out that the contestants were all so immodestly dressed even by western standards that I am finding myself forced to order a large serving of my own hat for dinner this evening. Anyways, without further ado, I give you the winner:

Oh, yeah. Work it, baby, work it....

¹And I don't want to sound bitter or nothin', but I thought this was one of my better posts. I enjoyed writing it, giggling all the while like a giddy schoolgirl in the process of delivering comic gold to the ungrateful masses of arse-cunts, only to receive, like, 4 comments, three of them mine .... and furthermore²...

²Look, I'm sorry. It's my problem .... I'll deal with it.

"This is Al-Harbi to all units. The people at number 47 Shara Jareer appear to be having a good time".....

........ in a nearby Riyadh street, the camera zooms in on an Arabic version of the Übermensch so rapidly that when it gets there time appears to stand still. Our hero is idly tossing around a toothpick in his mustachio-ed mouth sitting on a chiseled-featured, designer-stubbled face when the call goes out. He tosses aside his generic piece of Saudi take-away type food¹ and intones in a deep, purposeful manner: "Not on my watch......"

The opening credits play.

The next day we find ourselves looking in on a meeting with all the top brass (the Council of Senior Islamic Scholars), which is already in progress when we get there.

Learned Scholar 1: I ..... hear ..... that pretending to be gay .... can be quite effective.

An un-easy murmuring flows through the room....

Learned Scholar 2 (shrugging): Perhaps .... but actually being gay is already illegal, so...

The murmuring is replaced by a mixture of "ah"s and nods of agreement. There is now a long protracted silence broken only by the occasional cough and the sound accompanying the scratching of a learned chin. Eventually, our attention is drawn to a weaselly-looking scholar in one corner of the room who stares into the table as he speaks.

Weaselly Scholar 3: Well..... A .... friend of mine ..... informs me that walking a dog is how the "hip cats" do it....

A thoughtful silence overtakes the room.

The next shot is of a news headline.

......................................................................

Anyways ........ switching the channel, we catch an exciting arrest in an episode of the Saudi Arabian version of Cops:

¹Yeah .... there's only so much research I'm willing to do here......