Made a quick stop at the airport candy shop (the most essential shop in the airport) where I bought the ex-girlfriend the obligatory inappropriate novelty garment - a Candy G-String. I had my choice between the Candy G-String and the Candy Bra, but the bra is almost too believable. I can understand the evolution from Candy Necklace to Candy Bra – once you’ve got it around the neck, it’s not a big stretch to move it down around the breasts. It’s funny and functional, offering satisfying sucrose support. But Candy G-String? Do you know what goes on down there? That jungle environment is no place for the safe, dry storage of sweet candies, especially after a five-mile jog. Can you imagine? The wearer is looking at severe confection-infection, at best. At the very worst: confection-conception. Have you ever seen an ultrasound on a womb full of gummy bears? They don’t kick playfully and suck their thumbs like human babies; they claw and scratch at each other like the feral gummy beast spawn they are. Cesarean births are recommended.

Too bad they didn’t carry the Vibrating Candy Cock Ring. I’ve got a date coming up with Princess Lolly, and the bitch gets freaky.