Three saucy young madams

I was strolling through Burnley on Monday afternoon wearing a nice wide brimmed panama hat and a Mexican guayabera shirt, a type that has four pockets, plenty of pleats and is worn outside the trousers. I sauntered past three tasty bits of talent, all in their very late teens or early twenties and my eyes perved the three of 'em as I wandered along.

"Who the fucking hell are you looking at, Paki?"

I stopped, drew myself up to my full height and turned around to face the female miscreant in question: "Do I look like  wily oriental gentleman to you?"

"Ooer, my grandad says that about Pakis," replied the sauce madam in question.

"Congratulations, you have confused both my race and my age, which is not bad going in thirty seconds. Any more insults or shall I just take your knickers down here and now?"

The three reprobates all broke out in giggles at that, and before they had a chance to dig themselves even deeper in the mire I asked how the hell they could confuse an Englishman with one of those people who have so enriched our culture with their presence, or something?

"I couldn't see your head because of the hat and you look a bit Paki with the shirt hanging outside your trousers like that," explained the mouthy one who had started this conversation in the first place.

"Do I look like I am wearing my fucking jim-jams on the street?"

"Sorry for my mistake," madam breathed.

"So I can get back to perving three tasty bits of talent without being so insulted again?"

"Course you can, love," said the one with the seriously large boobs.

I noticed that she was carrying a book. Could it be? Yes it was - Fifty Shades of Grey. Feeling that my birthday had arrived early I handed out my card to all three and told 'em that the hero in that work of fiction had nothing on me.

Then I continued to saunter, forcing myself not to turn and look around as we don't want the female of the species to get too cocky, do we, chaps?