​​​​​​Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.

Tits in the window

I am a heterosexual male.  When I was about seventeen I got invited to a costume party in Oxford, England, and I knew a few people so I borrowed some, "clothing", items and went as a dominatrix, Madame Dungeon!

I had a leather hat like the guy out of Village People, a leather, studded dog collar, wristlets a black bra, panties, stockings and a garter belt and big boots.  I had wrap-around sun glasses and a big, leather whip.

The piece-de-resistance was a pair of fake bosoms that my mother had bought me, with one breast hanging out of the bra and chain from the collar to the nipple.

In those days I had the figure for it, and I never got so much female attention in my life.

When I got home I sorted out the gear to take back to the people I'd borrowed it from, but the fake tits I just put on a high windowsill that looked out to the A44, main trunk road from Birmingham to Southampton and forgot about them.

Six months later, I had cause to give someone directions to my house and they asked, "Do you live near the house with the tits in the window?"

I had no idea where that was.

Then, a few weeks later, the police called at our house and said they had received a complaint from a motorist who had been distracted by bare breasts in the window.  My father didn't know anything about it but they had a look and there were the fake breasts.

My dad was brilliant.  He said to police, "Bloody hell! I bet he was wanking all the way down the road!"

But we removed the breasts.  

I thought it was funny enough that I phoned the Oxford Mail newspaper and they sent out a reporter and a photographer.  It must have been a slow news week because the story got on the front page.

We didn't think anything more about it until, later that week, five national newspapers, three weekly and two daily, picked up the story.

The biggest selling national newspaper in Britain was the Sun and it got onto page three under the headline, "Titillating Torso a bit of a Boob!"  I'm ashamed that the Sun was the biggest selling newspaper in Britain at that time, but it was.

But, by now the tits were a land mark, so I put them back, wearing the bra.  Nobody else complained.

-Spade Braithwaite

Spade Braithwaite was born, and lived an idyllic early life, in Oxford, England.  In Britain, he worked a variety of jobs including the very first, ever, pizza delivery man in Britain (for Britain’s first pizza delivery company - Harry's Pizza Factory), a highway surveyor, bartender, Italian restaurant cook, fork truck driver, mason laborer, compost shoveler, and manager of a big, very busy pub/hotel/restaurant.  He also studied to be a Cessna pilot (but was too terrified of flying to get a license), studied civil engineering at Oxford to become a construction manager, and studied motorcycles at college to become a qualified mechanic.  At twenty nine he moved to Pennsylvania and worked as a lumberjack for fifteen years.  Since then, his life has been a bit chaotic, working in every appalling industry on four continents.

His novel, Herbert Brewer's Dirty Little Secret (Amsarnie Book 1) is the first is a series of very funny stories set in his imaginary island nation of Amsarnie.  His website is Amsarnie.com.