The Northern Beaches, where pervs are fair

Last weekend, on my run to Manly, I turned to jog along the beachfront and ended up behind a group of very fit young ladies. This was pure chance, I swear.

After only a few steps the group of women was hailed by a hairy, middle-aged man, as wide as he was tall, obviously just in from a swim. “Looking good, ladies, looking good,” he oozed, his beach towel stretched to its limits around his wet, wooly belly. The women ran on, ignoring him.

“Hey, what about me?” I shouted with a smile.

As I moved right to overtake the pack I heard from behind me, “Hey, I didn’t say you didn’t look good.”


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