SPECIAL OLYMPIC
REPORT: BABE-ALICIOUS IN BEIJING
Peking Up The
Skirts of The World’s Best - November 19, 2008
(Peking, China)
The Potato’s crack squad of news insurgents gained full
access to the hollowed grounds of the women’s locker rooms for
the games of the XXIX Olympiad in a true betaesque effort to dig
deep, probing the orifices of the world’s finest horse-flesh for
the dirt and smegma that all want to taste, first hand.
 The games were
almost thrown out of control when crazed Chinamen from all
corners of the country attempted to converge on the site of the
women’s weightlifting competition. In a nation where as few as
5% of the barber shops actually have scissors, and “Snatch” and
“Clean and Jerk” are at the top of the list of available
services, the prospect of having some hot, muscle-bound foreign
snatch clean and jerk one’s modest yellow member was more than
most could resist.
But by far the most intriguing news story
that spewed forth from these games was that of the
presumed pubescence of those glorious Chinese women gymnasts.
Said fabled perv, and accomplished bed-wetter, Lush Rim-Job, “I don’t see what the fuss is about. If they’re
old enough to sit at the table, they’re old enough to eat!”
Yes, some say, some say, but the bodacious, grain-fed babes from the
West would have none of it. So the calls went out to find a
trusted resource to determine the eligibility of the young sino-mynxes.
Aspiring pedophile, Shrill O'Liely,
feigned ignorance of all things female, save for his newly
installed breast implants, but made himself immediately
available to assess the manhood of openly gay male divers at the
Olympiad.
Hu Bang Dong, leader of the Chinese delegation on Age
Disinformation and Hot Little Numbers, made several
additional phone calls until coming to the realization that the
only man for the job was none other than the famed
creator of the CC Hockey Team’s fight song and convicted child-plooker,
Gary Glitter. What with his musical contribution to the wide
world of sport, Mr. Glitter was unanimously approved by the
Olympic Committee, and whisked directly to the Olympic Village
from his holding cell in Vietnam. All that was left was to
determine which of Mr. Glitter’s many talents should be employed
to get into the bottom of the issue as quickly and as
smoothly as possible.
Always the
generous one, Gary offered to apply his queerly-sensitive,
lizard-like tongue directly to the nads of each little girl to
determine the existence of any menstrual matter, after the
requisite reading of Little Red Riding Hood and a few local
Chinese fairy tales to set the mood, of course. This and
several of Mr. Glitter’s more sanguine suggestions were quickly
abandoned, and he was led to a small booth that would keep him
safely separated from the spunky little vixens, while still
permitting the committee to benefit from his keen sense of sight
for all things youthful.
Mr. Glitter was
seated, arms tied at his back and pants ‘round his ankles,
behind a barrier that shielded all onlookers from the horror of
his ravaged member, which had clearly spent a great deal of time
in small, tightly-confining places during his extensive travels
through Southeast Asia. Peering through the glass pane above
the barrier, Gary ogled the first item up for bids as the
“Glittometer” firmed in anticipation.
 To the relief and
amazement of Mr. Hu and the rest of the Chinese delegation, the
parade of spry waifs, adorned in their smart little tumbling
thongs, yielded only small yelps from ol’ Gary along with a mild
smattering of perspiration on his upper lip area. The
Glittometer remained restive at Defcon 5. At least, that was
until young little He Kexin tip-toed into the room, at which
moment ol’ Gary, who it was later discovered had been extremely
well paid by the Chinese delegation to cooperate, could
stomach no more, and the Glittometer lurched to Defcon 1 before
the Chinese could hit him with the waiting sedative while Ms. He
was quickly removed from the room.
In the end, the
matter was quickly resolved with the Chinese dispensing
goodwill from their hoard of US Dollars, and the rest, as
they say, is history. Right Lush?
“Hey, like I
said. Old enough to pee, old enough for me!”
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